#damn writing prayers takes me so long

[na0koz]

jinx getting jealous and makin u pay for it :P

nsfw!!! MDNI. cw: blood, knives, kinda dubcon i guess?, strap use

anon request! wouldn’t let me respond to it in a post. this is my first time writing proper smut sorry if it’s bad

toxic!jinx masterlist

today was one of the few days you weren’t planning on hanging out with jinx, but obviously you ended up doing just that. jinx was just checking up on you, watching you work from the very back corner of the cute little coffee shop you were studying in (sometimes she is baffled by the fact that you have never ever noticed her stalking you. she is in plain sight half the time) when someone from your class comes in and approaches you at your table.

you smile up at them, moving your bag so they can sit opposite you and the two of you start chatting. several minutes go by, your studies long forgotten as you get to know your classmate, someone who you hadn’t really spoken to much before. jinx on the other hand, hasn’t moved a muscle and has barely even blinked as she watches the interaction unfold before her, eyes flickering between the two of you before noticing your classmate pulling their phone out.

jinx damn near gets up out of her seat when she sees you take their phone and type what jinx assumes was your phone number. she finally moves, though only to start bouncing her leg up and down, waiting for an opportunity to question you. she’s bitten her lip so hard that it bleeds.

after what feels like an eternity, your classmate leaves. jinx already knows their name and perhaps even their address after somehow finding a list of everyone in your class and researching each of them. they will face their punishment in due course. as soon as the door closes behind them, jinx is up and stomping towards your table.

the sudden movement opposite you as she sits down causes you to look up again from your laptop and you exclaim upon seeing her. “oh! hey jinx.”

jinx doesn’t say anything in return, just licks the remaining half-dried blood from her lip.

“who was that?” she questions, leaning on her forearms over the table. she sounds annoyed, and you really really hope she isn’t as angry as she sounds.

“someone from my class. they just wanted to borrow some notes they had missed,” you explain as you gather your stuff up and put it in your bag. you know she’s gonna make you leave with her so you might as well prepare.

“hm. whatever, let’s go.”

you follow jinx out of the shop and she grabs your arm to pull you along beside her while she thinks of the quickest route back to either of your houses.

you end up at her house, the door locked behind you as you push your shoes off. jinx tugs your bag off your shoulder for you, dropping it to the floor with a thud before leading you to her room.

she starts yanking off your jacket, your clothes and finally your underwear. she sheds a couple of her own layers, but pauses when she’s just in her underwear and a tight cropped tank top. you can’t say you’re not turned on, and you brace yourself for the teasing that will likely follow when jinx forces your legs open.

in the time you imagine how she’s going to chide you for how wet you’re getting over literally nothing, she’s managed to get her strap on and pulls you onto your stomach, bending your knees for you so you’re face down, ass up on her bed. she continues wordlessly as she begins tying a turquoise rope around your wrists behind your back.

jinx lines up her dick with your already dripping hole and pushes in, making you whine into the mattress. still without a word, she starts fucking you, and hard.

you quickly build up to your orgasm, chanting jinx’s name like a prayer begging her to let you cum.

she replies with a simple “go on.” and you cum hard on her dick, a few tears escaping your eyes and soaking the sheets below.

tonight, it’s her goal to make sure you know she’s the only one who can give you what she can, as well as she can.

jinx coaxes a few more orgasms from you with her strap before she decides to opt for a new method to make you feel so good you cry.

she pulls your fucked out body into her lap and drags your arms behind her head so they looped around her neck, still bound together by the blue rope. she kicks her legs under yours to force them open and keep them that way. then, she shoves two of her fingers into your mouth.

instinctively, you start to suck, tongue curling around her slender fingers.

“mhm, that’s it. good girl.” jinx muses as she watches your lips puckering around her digits. it surprises you how much she can change when she’s fucking you, becoming dark and dominant over you.

she pulls her now wet fingers out of your mouth with a pop and traces them down the valley of your chest, along your stomach down to your pussy. she teases your clit and your puffy folds for a second before plunging her fingers into your sensitive hole. you cry out and squeeze your eyes shut, failing to notice jinx reaching behind her as she grasps for her assault knife. the one with the hot pink and turquoise handle she made herself.

as she curls her fingers inside of you, she gently prods your inner thigh with the knife and you twitch at the sudden pain. you open your eyes and look up at her, not being able to restrain the whimpers coming from your throat as jinx continues fingering you with her knife still poking you, threatening to pierce your skin.

“ji-… hurts..” you can barely get a word out from how tight the coil inside of you is.

she’s not letting you reach your orgasm on purpose. you hear her giggle at your whining through the haze of your pleasure.

“you gonna cum?” she sings at you. she’s just teasing your for her own pleasure now. freak.

“please…jinx. wanna cum so bad..” you plead with her.

“y’know no one else can make you cum like this, baby. no one else can do what i do.” she begins to drag the knife up to the space between your tits.

jinx doesn’t feel like drawing any blood from you today, but she doesn’t need to tell you that right now. she just needs to make you know that you’re hers. she owns you and she needs to punish you for making her jealous.

“tell me i’m the only one who can make you cum.” she presses down with the blade, hearing you moan even louder. she’s changed her mind now. she pulls the knife down a little, drops of blood blooming on your chest.

you’re writhing in her grip now. you’re so so close to cumming but she just won’t let you.

“go on. tell me.” jinx says bluntly before dipping her head down to lick the blood off you.

“yo-..! you’re the only one jinx! the only one who can make me cum! please- please let me..” you cry as your sentence dies on your tongue, brows furrowed and eyes shut.

she hums. “see, baby? wasn’t so hard.” she puts the knife down and finally fucking you just that little bit harder.

the band in your belly snaps and you cum so hard you see stars. your hot juices spurt out of your convulsing hole over jinx’s palm and her bedsheets. she licks the tears from your cheeks and strokes your hair with her free hand.

you relax against her, breathing heavily as she wipes the small wound she made with a cloth she had on her nightstand. she lets you calm down a little more before cleaning up your soaked pussy.

you think it’s probably best to ignore any texts from your classmate, and pretend you typed your number wrong. for their sake, not yours.

[imaginestuffs]

Fresh Out the Slammer- Tyler Owens x f!Reader

Word count:3,858

Warnings: Reader's ex is an asshole, language, fluff, angst? my first time writing for Tyler, might be a bit ooc, sorry.

Summary: The reader gets out of a six-year-long prison sentence (relationship). Tyler is there to pick up the pieces and remind her that life is meant to be lived, not just survived. based on the song "Fresh Out the Slammer" by Taylor Swift

(gif not mine!)

Standing in the middle of a rest stop with your team and a few other groups, your boyfriend decided to go off on you. 

Just hours earlier he had made a mistake while chasing a tornado. He told you that he wouldn't get too close, he wouldn’t let anything happen. But, that wasn’t the case at all. He decided to take a chance and get as close as he possibly could, and contrary to his beliefs, he did get too close. 

You yelled at him to turn around, just as everyone had over the radio. Yet, he persisted despite your begging to go back. Everyone else in the group had turned around but he just couldn’t face the fact that he was wrong. As the storm got closer you began to cry, muttering prayers and pleas to anyone or anything that would hear you. 

He began to yell at you to shut up and stop being a bitch. This only made you cry harder, and just as you dreaded a strong gust of wind followed by quite a large piece of debris hit the side of your truck. It hit the truck hard enough to tip it but not enough to make it roll. And for that, you believed your pleas had been heard. 

Now here you were after getting checked out by paramedics, luckily nothing severe had happened. Just a gash across your forehead that needed stitches and a few other cuts and bruises. Your friends were terrified when they found you both and confused as to why your boyfriend would do that. 

That brought you to the moment you knew it was over. 

“You know, if you weren’t such a mess, none of this would’ve happened.” he sneered. 

“I’m sorry, what?” you snapped back. He looked at you and rolled his eyes. 

“You heard what I said. You’re a damn mess. You sitting there in the passenger seat crying, pleading with God not to let us die. Like I didn’t know what I was doing.” He took a large step towards you and your breath hitched. 

“You weren’t listening to any of us, we could have been seriously hurt. We could have died Nathan!” your eyes were wide, and your heart was pounding. 

“There you go again, being as dramatic as you can. You’d do anything for attention and sympathy. It makes me sick, honestly. Get over yourself, no one cares (y/n)! I sure as hell don’t.” he said. Your heart dropped, and your eyes began to tear up. 

“Go ahead and cry just like always. I’m done with you and all your problems. It was your fault for the accident. If you weren't being a baby I would’ve been paying attention. Get out of here, we’re leaving. Go home and pack your shit.” his voice was as cold as his eyes were. 

He stormed away to where the rest of your group stood. They all looked at him in fear, not knowing how cruel he was. 

“What the hell are you looking at? Let’s get out of here before she comes begging for forgiveness,” he said in disgust. 

All you could do was stand there, watching all of the people you thought loved you turn their backs on you. Leave you there like you never mattered to them at all. 

They drove off and you felt your heart shatter. You didn’t know he hated you that much, and it made you feel sick. 

Feeling your stomach churn you quickly ran to the side of the building and threw up. As you were hunched over you felt hands grab your hair and someone rubbing your back soothingly. 

Once you had stopped you began to sob, you were completely overwhelmed and in quite a state. You didn’t know who had pulled you into a hug but you held on so tightly you could’ve bruised them. 

“Hey, hey. Shh, it’s ok I’ve got you.” the person's voice was something you held onto in your mind. “You’re gonna be ok, I promise,” the man spoke softly letting his hand smooth your hair down. 

You weren't sure how long you stayed that way but when you eventually calmed down your grip became lax. You rubbed at your eyes trying to get the world into focus again. 

Feeling someone’s eyes on you, you were reminded of the person next to you. 

Glancing up you saw a man you’d never expected to see. Tyler Owens. 

At that moment you didn’t care who he was, you just knew that you were grateful for him. 

You had come across him and his team a few times, and despite him being a little annoying he was always kind to you. 

His eyes held a softness you had never seen, and his smile was sympathetic. 

You realized then how ridiculous you must look. Dirty clothes mascara trails on your face and puffy eyes. You suddenly became embarrassed. 

“I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, I’m not doing this for attention. I just felt overwhelmed, and the crash and everything caught up to me all at once. Honestly, I didn’t mean for anyone to see me like this. I’m so sorry Tyler, You didn’t have to help me-” He cut off your rambling. 

“(y/n), listen to me,” he said and ducked down to try and meet your eyes. You turned your head away, so as gently as he could with a firm grip, he turned your face towards him. 

You looked at him and saw no judgment or anger. The only thing you saw was kindness, and with his hand on your cheek, you felt how steady he was. 

“You have no reason to be sorry. What you just went through is not easy to process. I know you’re not doing this for attention. You’re hurt, and you're exhausted, and I can assume you're still shaken up from the car flipping.” He said with a calmness you never thought of when it came to Tyler. 

You slowly nodded your head, trying to calm yourself. “It’s not your fault, none of it is your fault.” 

--

It had been a few months since everything happened, and you were beginning to see all of the things you ignored. With the fog lifted you could see that the way Nathan treated you was beyond terrible. Everything that didn’t go his way was your fault. The way he only said he loved you when you were in front of your families. All the times he chewed you out in front of the team, and then would persuade you to forgive him and believe that it was once again your fault. 

Tyler and his team ended up taking you home. He went with you to get your things from Nathan’s apartment. He made things bearable, he made you feel like you were important and that was so new to you. 

You became quite good friends with his group as well. They had all checked in on you as much as they could. They’d stop by and spend the night, just keeping you company. They wanted you to feel like you had people who cared for you. Honestly, they all fell in love with you. 

Currently, you were sitting at home curled up on the couch with your latest book. A cup of tea sat on the side table, and rain lightly drizzled on the roof. 

Hearing cars pull up outside your brows furrowed, and you bookmarked your page before getting up. With the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you made your way to the window. There in your driveway was Tyler’s red truck, and the RV. You saw everyone pile out of the cars and you quickly walked to your front door and yanked it open. 

“Guys!” you shouted and dropped your blanket in favor of running down your porch towards your friends. Boone being the closest you crashed into him, your arms around him in a big hug. 

“Hey, (y/n)!” he exclaimed as he held you tightly. He swayed you a bit and you chuckled before pulling away. 

You went around and greeted all your friends. 

“Where’s my hug?” You heard Tyler’s voice sound from behind you. You turned to look at him with a big smile. 

You opened your arms, “Right here if you want it,” you teased. He chuckled slightly before walking towards you and swiftly wrapping you up in his arms. You let out a laugh when he picked you up off the wet grass. It was only then that you remembered that it was raining. You felt the water land on your warm face and you scrunched your nose. 

Tyler couldn’t help but smile at you, admiring the joy and contentment he could see on your face. It was a peace he never saw you have before. 

Setting you down you smiled up at him and grabbed his hand in yours before jogging towards the open door. Everyone else had gone inside to escape the rain, or at least that’s the reason they gave you. 

The whole team knew that the real reason they went into the house was to let you and Tyler have a moment. They could tell that something was happening between the two of you. 

You closed the door behind you, and Tyler picked up the blanket you had dropped on the floor. 

Luckily it wasn’t a full-blown storm so none of you were soaked. Just a few sprinkles on your clothes. You offered your friends coffee or tea, or a beer if they wanted one. Surprisingly they all opted for coffee. 

“The fact that you don’t put any cream or sugar into your coffee makes me ill Dexter.” You said jokingly. 

“Well, I want coffee not just a cup of cream and sugar,” he said and shrugged. You laughed as you walked into the kitchen to make the coffee for them. 

As you walked away everyone turned their attention towards Tyler. 

“So, are you gonna go talk to her?” Dani questioned him with a smirk. Tyler raised a brow at them and scoffed. 

“We all know you’re dying to ask her out Ty, just go do it,” Lily urged him.

He shook his head and sighed. “You guys are crazy, she just got her heart broken a few months ago. I doubt she wants to jump into something else so soon,” Tyler told them. 

Boone looked at his best friend with a questioning look. “Tyler, I swear to god if you don’t go in there and ask that woman out, I’ll do it for you,” he threatened. 

Tyler sighed in defeat. “What would I even say?” he asked them all. 

“Just talk to her like normal. Just be Tyler, that’s all she would want,” Dani patted his shoulder. 

“Shit,” Tyler mumbled before standing from his place on the couch. They all quietly cheered him on as he walked away. 

You had music playing as you made everyone’s coffee for them. Swaying around the kitchen you sang quietly under your breath. 

“Now pretty baby, I’m running back home to you. Fresh out the slammer I know who my first call will be to. Fresh out the slammer ah,” When the first verse started did a small spin. 

Tyler stood quietly in the doorway admiring you in your own world. It was as if nothing could touch you right now. In that moment he realized just how much he wanted to be yours. He knew he could treat you better. He would do anything to see you smile, and to see you without a care in the world. 

He let out a small chuckle as you spun. You heard him and turned around in surprise. You let out a breath realizing that it was just him. You smiled and walked over to him to grab his hands. 

You began to dance with him to the song. He twirled you away from him and pulled you back in. You laughed and began to sing the song again. 

“Now pretty baby, I’m runnin’ to the house where you still wait up, and that porch light gleams. To the one who says I’m the girl of his American Dreams.” He smiled down at you and pulled you in close. Your arms around his waist and his arms around your shoulders. You had never felt this safe before, and it was the happiest you had been in years. 

“But it’s gonna be alright, I did my time.” 

The song ended and he slowly pulled away. Your smile was soft and your gaze was warm as you looked up at him. He could feel his heart melt at the sight in front of him. 

He glanced at your lips, then back up to your eyes. He took a tentative step closer, placing a hand on your waist and the other on your cheek. You took a small step forward, and your smile turned shy. You placed one hand on his forearm and the other on his shoulder. 

He slowly leaned in, pausing for just a second, his nose brushing yours. Taking a moment to see if this was what you wanted. He felt your soft breathing against his lips, and he saw that your eyes were closed. 

“Please,” he heard your soft whisper, and without a second thought, he pressed his lips against yours. 

You immediately pushed up on your toes to press yourself closer to him. Tyler couldn’t remember a time he had ever felt this way for someone. His hand drifted from your face into your hair, gently tugging the soft strands. You sighed into the kiss and he took the opportunity to deepen it. The hand on your waist had moved to your back to keep you flush against him. 

The way he kissed you made you feel like you didn’t have to worry about being hurt. You didn’t have to tiptoe around him or be scared that one day he would just decide he didn’t love you. It felt like rain after a drought, sun after a cruel winter, Finally escaping the prison cell you had been in for the last six years. 

It felt like freedom. 

--

“Ty! Roll down the window!” you said in excitement. Tyler looked at you with a huge grin. 

“You better be careful baby,” he said, with that glint in his eyes. 

“Always am,” you winked as you pulled yourself as far out the window as you could. You were practically sitting with your legs in the car and your torso through the window. You held on to the cage with one hand letting yourself feel the rain and wind whipping through your hair. Tyler drove down the road as best as he could while stealing glances at you. 

He heard how you laughed and yelled into the wind. It was moments like those when he realized he had found his person. He found the person he wanted to spend forever with. 

When Tyler saw the clouds becoming more dense he tapped your leg softly as a way of telling you to come back in. You quickly slid yourself back into the seat with a huge smile. 

Your hair was slightly wet and completely wind-swept. 

“God, I love you,” he said and you chuckled. 

“Why do you say that?” you asked slightly out of breath. 

“Because you understand me. I don’t have to explain why I do this, because you love it just as much as I do,” he said and you smiled over at him. 

“If it wasn't for you, I wouldn’t have ever done this again. You brought back the love of chasing, I know with you I have nothing to be afraid of,” You told him and leaned over to kiss the corner of his smile. 

He placed on hand on your thigh and glanced over at you with so much love. 

“Are you guys ready for this?!” Boone’s voice came through the radio loud and clear. A laugh escaped you. 

Picking up the radio, you responded. “We are. Are you?” 

Boone could hear the smirk in your voice. Lily laughed, “See you on the other side!” she crowed. 

Tyler drove further into the storm's path, when he got exactly where you wanted to be, he anchored the truck into the ground. 

Tyler looked over at you with the same grin you had seen countless times now. The one that you’d never get tired of seeing, and you imagine your smile mirrored his. 

The tornado swirled around you, and the rush of adrenaline you always felt came flooding through you. Tyler's hand was still placed on your thigh, a grounding comfort for you. Despite your love for tornadoes and storms, there was always the smallest twinge of fear. But it was something you had grown to appreciate, it made you have so much more respect for Mother Nature. 

It was amazing to see the look on Ty’s face as he watched everything happen around him. There was never a time you had seen him unimpressed by a tornado, a storm, or just rain on a cloudy day. 

It was your favorite thing to witness. His passion and eagerness to understand these things. 

The tornado had passed and you and Tyler immediately looked at each other and burst into laughter. 

You leaped out of the truck and turned to watch the tornado forge its path across the field. 

Tyler came up behind you and scooped you up. He let out a shout of joy, and you laughed breathlessly. He set you down.

“Did you see that baby?!” he yelled. He ran a hand through his hair and you smiled. 

“That was beautiful Ty! I can’t believe that!” you enthused as you danced around the field. Tyler chuckled and grabbed your hand spinning you around. 

He pulls you close to him and you reach up to hold his face in your hands. Your hair was a bit frizzy from the rain earlier and your eyes were bright as you looked at him with so much love. 

“Tyler Owens, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” you said and pulled him down to kiss you. 

His hand crept under your shirt, and you shivered at his touch. His hands were rough, but it made you melt. He pulled away when a car horn honked a few feet away. 

You turned to see who it was. Expecting it to be the crew you were surprised to see Nathan and your old team get out of their cars. 

You rolled your eyes and sighed. Nathan stormed over to you but Tyler quickly stood in front of you. 

“Get out of my way,” Nathan said, trying his best to sound intimidating. 

It was true that Nathan was significantly shorter than Tyler, and you had to hold back your laugh. 

“What are you gonna do, Kick me?” Tyler questioned with a raised brow. 

“(y/n), we need to talk right now,” He used that voice that always used to scare you into doing what he wanted. He sounded pathetic now. 

“She doesn't owe you a damn thing Nathan,” Tyler said and took a step closer to him. 

You stepped forward to grab Tyler’s wrist and pull him back. Just as you did this, you heard your friends pull up next to you. 

They all got out of their cars as well and came over to see what was going on. 

When they saw Nathan, they all sighed in annoyance. 

“Why is Shorty here?” Dani asked. 

Nathan sent a glare their way, and Dani flipped him off. 

“Damn it, (y/n), Just let me talk to you!” he shouted angrily. 

Tyler was about to step in when you squeezed his hand. He looked down at you quizzically. 

“I can talk to him, it’s ok T,” you said and tugged him down to kiss his cheek. 

Tyler took a couple of steps back and let you stand in front of Nathan. 

“Nathan, what do you want?” you asked him with your arms crossed. 

“Why the hell are you with them? Why are you with him?” he questioned angrily. 

“I’m way better than him. I knew you were desperate but Tyler Owens, are you serious?” Nathan took a jab, expecting to get a reaction out of you. 

You just gave him a look as if asking if he was done talking. 

“You done?” You questioned with a raised brow. 

He stood there unable to find words, “What the hell is wrong with you?” he ended up spitting out. 

You scoffed. “What’s wrong with me? Nothing. But I can tell you what's wrong with you.” before he got a chance to clap back you spoke up again. 

“You treat everyone else around you like crap because you're bitter. You take out your anger on the people around you because you can’t face the fact that you’re miserable. You took everything out on me, it was always my fault. Every little thing that didn’t go right in your life, you blamed on me.” 

“That’s bullshit!” he interjected angrily. 

“Oh, really? Should I bring up the time you told me I was your biggest mistake, that if you never would have talked to me you wouldn’t be having so many problems. You made me believe that I was always the problem.” You stated with conviction.

“Being with you was a prison sentence, if you hadn’t left that day, I would’ve died handcuffed to the spell I was under, lost in the shade of how you were feeling. You leaving me there was the best thing to happen to me,” you affirmed. 

“By the way, for every time you called me a bitch, He calls me the girl of his American dreams.” 

You flipped him off with the sweetest smile you could muster. 

“Fuck you,” he spat at you and you kept a smile on your face. He turned away from you and began to walk away.

“One more thing Nathan! These people that I’m with now, are worth more than 100 of you,” you said and pointed to the whole group. 

They got in their cars and turned around as fast as they could. You turned to look at your friends and boyfriend. They all looked stunned. 

“What?” you asked with a smile. “That was my favorite thing that has ever happened,” Lily spoke and you chuckled. Dexter walked up to you and wrapped you in a hug, you hugged him back just as everyone else joined in on it. 

You laughed with everyone as you pulled away. “I love you guys, what more is there to say,” you shrugged. 

You felt arms wrap around your waist and you smiled before turning around to face Tyler. He smiled down at you. You reached up and took the hat off of his head and placed it on your own with a sly smile. 

“The girl of my American dreams, huh?” he questioned with a smirk. You tilt your head a bit as you gaze up at him. 

“You know it, cowboy,” 

---

“But it’s gonna be alright, I did my time,” 

[mischiefmaker615]

Chef's Choice

Over the past time of having tumblr, i have collected my personal favorites- stories that i always get drawn back to when i need inspiration, something to read, and/or something to enjoy with whatever mood or situation that needs tending LOL (not in order and there are so many others i love!!)

Thought it be best to introduce you to some of the greats out there :D

“Seems like the prince of Asgard is seduced by a mortal woman”

By: @fictive-sl0th

(OMG i absolutely LOVE the doctor themed stories with Loki XD ya never know what direction it's gonna end up ;) )

A Coveted Bride

By: @magicbystarlight

(i absolutely LOVE jealous Loki, anything in the realm of dark theme and possessiveness XD we don't judge here. it's an enquired taste and darling, you cooked!!)

Duplicitous *Long Snake Moan*

By: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

(everything you write, i got to read! truth be told, we didnt ask for but we absolutely needed!!)

Pinned Down The Rite

By: @lokisgoodgirl

(come on, just by the titles alone you know it's gonna be good! everything you've written, i've fallen in love with each detail, nothing is rushed and personalities are captured beautifully! i've caught myself gasping out loud in public with some of the stuff you bring us and i absolutely love it!)

Overstimulation Welcome Him Home More Between His Thighs

By: @sarahscribbles

(had me drooling in kinktober!!! just the title alone, i hit favorite so i could read it when i got time and darling, you didn't disappoint! so many stories just draw my attention and every aspect of them is truly perfect!!! i need more!!!)

thirty seconds

By: @muddyorbsblr

(what i would give to be in the readers shoes!! omg i loved this!!! hit all the right feelings and i cant help but reread this far more than thirty times LOL)

The Chambermaid

By: @wheredafandomat

(i want Loki to step on me!!!! i wouldn't mind slave life if it meant serving him LOL gods this was perfect!! i always loved maid x Loki themed stories, keep them coming!!)

Kinktober Day 16

By: @suguru-getos

("we listen and we don't judge" *cough* i love me some CNC! seems like a very hidden kink topic so i got positively excited when i saw this mentioned in your writing and just HAD to read it Lol kinky indeed!!! truly my favorite fic of yours so far!)

Overtime Safehouse Conquer Close Quarters

By: @cleo-fox

(I'm pretty sure all of tumblr knows who you are Lol i have enjoyed EVERYTHING you've come out with; your plots, details and character embodiment, Loki is on point!! i cant even fathom where to begin on making storylines this deep with all the bells and whistles. you are truly an incredible writer!!)

"I can do….terrible things to you."

By: @oh-look-at-her

(i can't literally do anything but bow down to you and get up only when given permission LOL truly a damn good time reading your work!!)

Firestarter

By: @delaber

(who doesn't love a good enemies to lovers story Lol can't tell you how many people i've shooed while i was in the middle of reading this XD)

Frozen Stiff Happily Never After

By: @simplyholl

(tbh i struggle finding REALLY good Jotun Loki fics and absolutely fell in love with this one!!! thank you for letting me die in peace now Lol had me giddy and blushing!!)

Have Mercy

By: @mochie85

(you captured his hot and pain in the ass personality so well!!! i LOVED this went through all the emotions on this one!! kinda like an enemies to lovers story Lol why cant it be me!!!)

A Tales of Tangled Desires

By: @angelremnants

(i fell in love with the part one, not expecting for my request to be answered but i got a part two and absolutely have become obsessed!! i love your writing so much and thank you for the prayer being answered! Lol)

And The Gods Made Love

By: @thefairywithboots

(thank you for my request being answered!! anything you publish, i cant get enough of and love the pure art like pace you take to form every inch of your story!!)

Plus One

By: @societyfolklore

(EXACTLY what i needed to start the new year ;) thank you!)

Mission Accomplished

By: @asgards-princess-of-mischief

(i love the whole "there's only one bed" scenario LOL this was absolutely perfect!)

Handcuffed Together

By: @anonymousfiction211

(it's in the title LOL this had all of my emotions :D it was fun, hilarious and incredible sexy!! truly loved this!)

[themareverine]

HI!! its the old man logan asker and im in love wt the way you wrote my previous ask, you are a godsent 🙏 i was wondering if its okay wt you, to write more of him.. i dont know sitting on old man logans lap and dressing up nice and pretty for him??!?!!?? please take it how you will, the way you write him makes me want to stupidly giggle

— I dream of you

A King & His Castle

oldman!Logan x fem!wife!mutant!reader

series summary: Breadwinner. Bring-Home-the-Bacon. King of the Castle. He's heard it all before, but it's never been true of the Wolverine. Until her. Coming home to her is the only thing to live for, the only thing keeping the heart behind his ribs spinning.

warnings: drabble series, day-in-the-life, dad!Logan, mutantwife!reader, angst, domesticity, pregnancy, babies, children, Logan is a boy dad because I said so, reader has curls, slight ⚠︎, breastfeeding, lactation, breastfeeding kink

a/n: i'm dedicating this to @bpmiranda, this is the spiciest it gets, honeychild!

navigation | series masterlist | previous let me know if you want added to my tags! ♡！

There’s very little like a south-of-the-border sunset. 

It’s that something that rises up from the earth to meet the air, a cool that seems, almost, to simmer in the soil until that perfect time of day—the time between the sun sinking low and starlight. It sits in the atmosphere like a dance, spinning and twirling, lifting skirts—hopeful. Innocent. Skips along the bluebonnets and desert roses scattered among the mesa, reverent, almost like the pretty prayers of a virginal bride, awaiting consummation with night. 

Perhaps his favorite fucking time of the day is this hour, after dinner. When the sky begins to transition in a way that kills the heat of the day, buries business hours. Rarely over the week can he toss his phone aside and forget the block of microchips and Big Brother that tethers him here, to his castle—to his bride, his home. Flesh and blood that cries out in the night and, five days a week, searches for him.

Fifty hours a fucking week he lives here, at home, through the screen of a cellular phone — something unthinkable even forty years behind him. 

When he isn’t ignoring passengers in that fucking Chrysler and trying to act his perceived age and be all professional and shit, he’s dreaming about the right here—the small creek that’s a mile to the east. The cactus and bluebonnets that paint the desert mesa like a Monet, the open sky that shows him God every time he rises with the day’s colors.

Away more often than not, by the time the headlights of the limo splash along the perimeter fence, swathing this small slice of his in milky light, he’s borderline forgotten what the four walls and a floor looks like. How it lathes open his heart like a knife in hot butter. 

By the time he takes a few deep breaths of the place, adamantium in his chest kicking out more poison that, somehow, hasn’t put him six feet under yet, he remembers. He longs, curses the days he’s away and silently vows to, in some way, never leave his fortress of solitude, this sanitarium of bliss. It’s bad enough working for the man and punching Uncle Sam’s fucking clock, logging driving hours under a license tethering him to the government like a honing beacon—worse yet, abandoning the so there of her arm draped along his chest as she crashes hard in bed, snoring slightly.

Prying himself away from warmth of fresh sheets, thick blankets that drive back the world. Slipping into the rig with the scent of her, the only true thing in his life the last four decades, clinging to his clothes like the lover he’ll never let her not be. 

Kings were never meant to leave their castles, and he’s away too damn often. 

Thick cigar smoke kicks into his chest as he takes a pull of the thing, sweet tobacco calming the hot edge of his blood as Logan drops his weight, fully, into a patio chair. Kisses of sunlight still linger in the cement apron beneath his feet, and the Wolverine stretches his toes fully against the concrete’s texture, relishing in the bite of it.

His chest all but collapses off a weighted sigh, tension from the cab of that fucking Chrysler bleeding off him like a shed skin, lost in the dwindling light of the day that quickly speeds towards evening—and he can’t not notice the sky. 

She’s beautiful, the canopies of God. Looking down on him with a wink, a teasing that he anticipates with great relief to be finally home.

Tossing his lighter on the patio table beside him, which is rusting and cockeyed from a missing foot, he massages the bridge of his nose. Entirely ignores the rustling movement spilling through the propped-open door leading inside to the makeshift kitchen their thrown-together living conditions allows. He doesn’t have to glance over his shoulder to know it’s her, milling about the kitchen—putting things away, tidying spaces that activities of the day with children doesn’t allow. 

Even from here, her bare feet on the oil-stained, once-refinery floors are unmissable—he’d been listening to her for timeframes he can’t recall, but every time, most of the time, feels like a new discovery. Rattle of pans and the soft hum of her voice carrying a tune floods him with a sense of domestic pride Logan has never felt—like a lion, basking in the sun of his lands, of his pride.

His. 

Excitement jumps through his frame when her movements near the door. Her energy in the atmosphere cracks like a whip, bites at him in a way that ravines down his spine with molten, balmy good. Heat bottoms him out in the base of his gut, like it always does whenever he can smell her — and he can, body be damned, smell her.

Fresh out of the shower, Logan is a breath away from demanding her come, forcing her compliance in him licking the dew from her skin, feasting on the beads of water that fall from the ends of her curls. Practically able to taste eucalyptus and whatever else shit she works into her skin overrides the tobacco smoke hanging out under his nose, renders him a little dumb in his cock. 

Taken aback to the first time Logan committed the scent of her to memory, the first time it became a core part of him, his jaw tenses a little with the effort not to groan.

It had been raining, the scent of earth so strongly that for seconds, it was all he could taste and think — until she’d brushed up against him, wet hair and saturated clothes accentuating every cut and line of her like an Aphrodite. He’d been so gobsmacked with her coming up under the arm he offered around her shoulders, Logan had transfigured. He’d never been the same.

A core part of his biology changed, smelling the sharp mints of her shampoo, the musk of rain and sweat on her skin—it’s all he wanted. He changed, she changed him—and moments like this, remembering, unlock parts of him Charles Xavier, Weapon X, the world had tried to chain like a creature.

Every damn time. 

Takes reasonable amounts of willpower to keep his dick from twitching between his legs, but that’s never new. Skeptics waxed not-so poetic about honeymoon phases, sex—all shot out of a marriage union after the first five years.

Laughable fucking insanity.

Whoever they were, well—they were fucking insane. They’d been together four decades — he was 200 years old. She was pushing 70 but regen lied about it – she hadn’t stopped looking like the day he’d met her, young and stupid and pretty, and parts of him suspect she never will reach the same haggard and graveside appearance he does.

Hopes not, anyway — a twisted, sick part of him liked people watching them, pointing questionable fingers.

What the hell is a pretty thing like that doing with an old fuck like him? 

It unlocked primal, animalistic tendencies he’d only ever feared, but kept him satiated.  Their sex life was fantastic. Damn near pornographic.

You’re a sick fuck, Logan. 

Familiar honey-thick heat drips from his core, down to his cock. Lazy fingers brush at the buckle of his belt, toying with the idea of jacking off to imaginations, to fantasies — to live they’ve lived, love already signed and sealed. Logan doesn’t bother, there’s a full world of the unexplored to discover with her underneath him, chanting out his name—he need only ask.

She never denied. 

“You want a beer?”

Her voice snaps him from his consideration of his feet, propped up on the edge of the patio table. Of course he wants booze, she knows that — but finds the need, the will to ask anyway.

Before he can properly respond, a chilled bottle taps his shoulder, cool glass managing to cut through the layers of suit jacket and shirt as it dangles between her near-boneless, lithe fingers.

“Here, enjoy,” from behind his shoulder she dips low, angles her head to kiss his cheek sweetly. “I’ll be right back, gonna check on little man.” 

It’s the sweetest sound in the world, truly.

And if mention of his son doesn’t ever manage to stop making his chest swell with pride, his bones ache, it will be too soon — it’s never really anything he’d ever envisioned for his life, fatherhood.

Two centuries alive did things to a man. A good woman, religion — the first cry of his son ripping apart the air around their room had devastated him. Ripped away the old shell of a man and stitched together a new man of dust and heart in a way Weapon X could never explain.

The day-to-day of her growing with his seed, glowing with innocent, new life in her womb had been transformative—unlike anything he’d ever experienced. 

Religion didn’t even properly describe it—poetry, song, story. Nothing compared, he was sure. Logan, for one of the maybe-handfuls of time in his existence this side of the grave, had cried the day he’d held his child—his son.

He could weep again, replaying the memory of her nuzzling his baby against her breast, drawing him to the place beside her, “Get over here, Logan—be here with us,” it still visits him in the night, when he dreams. In the quiet of a mute limousine cabin area, when the night is still. 

A perfect cocktail of them together, of mutation and humanity not yet touched by the outside world—their innocence, born again. Breathing. 

His son. His own son. 

Logan kept the picture of her nursing for the first time, post-delivery sweat and gall, as the background of that fucking cell phone, and he wouldn’t deny that he looked at it often. Thought about knocking her up again, just to have another — to have a series of photos that never outgrew that post-delivery quiet, the reverence of that moment.

They hadn’t talked about another kid, not since his birth—Laura and Eli kept the house alive, were handfuls Logan couldn’t even imagine in five years from now. Laura was just beginning to enjoy schoolwork, to approach the new baby.

Their “whoops” pregnancy had complicated enough, another would be chaos on a level he couldn’t fathom. 

But damn, if he didn’t enjoy the thought. Logan was not too big to admit that he was proud, another new trait he found himself admonishing. A photo of the three of them tucked into the ventilation slots of the dash often triggered break-the-ice conversations with his passengers — your wife and kids? They’re beautiful.  

And fuck him if he wasn’t the proud husband and father who didn’t stop talking about them like a babbling idiot, which so wasn’t him in any universe he could understand or imagine.

Mhm, sure is. Laura, she’s almost twelve. And Eli—little man is just learning to hold ‘is head up, little tank of a thing — growin’ fast, faster than I want, the both of ‘em, and Mare—there ain’t words for what kind’a momma she is—

And truly, there never, will never be, enough words to adjective this feeling. 

Basically, he'd turned into a regular Mr. fuckin’ Brady. 

Attention triggered over his shoulder by the creak of the door’s hinges, Logan cracks open the beer, tosses aside the cap to the table like it’s nothing. Pulling long on the bottle, the tick of plastic knocking against itself draws up his brow, only making sense when she steps into his peripheral — a sight that drops his feet off the table with gusto.

Snaps him to attention like a fucking soldier. 

Fiddling with the all-too familiar breastpump gizmo that’s basically attached at her hip with how often of a presence it maintains, all moisture evaporates from the back of his mouth as she stands there, hip cocked, in little more than that tiny stupid satin robe that makes him lose his fucking mind.

Curls of hair frame her face from where they’ve fallen from the lazy clip she’s thrown into her hair, her skin fresh and adew, still, from that moisturizer she has him bring home. Even untied, the robe hides more of her than he wants, barely able to clock the neon fucking thong clinging to every curve of her hips for dear life.

Very quickly Logan recalls that he’s been away from home for five days, every one of them pistoning hot blood that laps for revenge in his cock. He’s hard in a way that aches, in seconds, and she doesn’t even bother to notice, too busy with that damn machine that gets far more VIP access to her tits than he could ever dream.

She’s close enough to reach, and he does, thick fingers tugging at the front of her robe with purpose.

“Havin’ a time with that, sweetheart?”

Cigar hanging low against his bottom lip, his other hand waves her to come hither, her eyes lifting from her handiwork to oblige him, “Give it ‘ere.”

Taking it from her, he sets it aside on the table, beckoning her forward to stand between his knees. The look on her face is defeated, almost disinterested. Tired pulls at the corner of her eyes, though there’s still a trace of sparkle in the depth of her ocean blues. 

His hand brushes open the robe, fingertips skimming over the expanse of her abdomen, bare and pale in the fade of the sun.

Entertaining the idea whether or not he’s going to choke on the smoke of his cigar at the mere sight of her, his fingers brush the material of the thong flossing the meat of her hip, eyes cutting to consider her breasts, now, bared before him at eye–level.

Fuck fuck fuck—

Swollen and full, visceral fingers of pleasurable ache grip his low spine, toying with his blood like it’s a plaything. It is, it’s her toy, her to do with what she pleases — and she knows that, most days. When she needs to.

And Logan knows there isn’t anything innately sexy about what needs to happen, here — she actively hates this, this required thing of her. Has told him so, on multiple fronts, despite his best attempts to change her mind.

Logan, there isn’t anything sexy about this — it hurts, it’s time consuming, I feel vulnerable—

Which, he concluded, was exactly why it was the single most beautiful thing that lapped his mind at all hours of the day, when he was off his game. 

There wasn’t anything like it in the world, a woman’s body. Never had understood until she’d given a son, until he’d been privy to watching the design of a woman’s anatomy actually at work. How it could receive, how it could multiply — how it could sustain a life, produce lifeblood. Nutrients not found naturally anywhere else, intimacy of its own kind.

Such vulnerable beauty stirred a desire to protect, to defend, he hadn’t experienced before — and it was sexy as all hell. Robbed him of sensible thought, of sanity. When he was alone, when he wasn’t, he starved thinking about it—hard and lusting.

Enough to drive a man to his knees in worship. 

A low, hungry moan rolls around the adamantium in his chest, hands moving to gently take the weight of her tits in his palms. Electricity may as well rip through him like a current, because every time is like the first when he touches her —it’s never the same. It’s always new and unique, always leaves him starving and curious.

But her hiss is sharp, features twisting in a hot writhe as her hand finds his shoulder. Strong fingers biting into his muscle tells him that this is familiar pain — that this is anything but what he’s experiencing, anything but what he’d give his right arm for it to be.

It crucifies him, nearly.

A crying shame. “You’re full, darlin’,” and if that doesn’t ignite something in the pit of him, he doesn’t know what, “didn’t do this today, did ya?” 

Lack of reaction says more than words ever will, no. Overseeing Laura’s schoolwork and tending to their son, while also managing what shambles of a home this shelter actually provides keeps her busy — he works, and she maintains life here, this refinery, this shell of a life he’s managed to provide. While she'd never complain, it is far from the white-picket fence American dream he’s supposed to strive for, provide. It’s a slippery slope into hell, trying to keep them all safe. Alive. Well. 

Mutants living the shell of a mutated life—fucking ironic. 

Gently and with care his hands form around the curve of her breast. It takes everything he’s got not to touch, to feel, to play, but the look on her face—the way she nearly cries, gives him pause. Hesitance.

“Easy,” she brushes at his hand, thumb gently grazing over one of her sensitive nipples, “please,” her murmur has grit, but isn’t viscous—like a dog whimpering from receiving care, she squirms a little beneath his touch, “that hurts.” 

“I can see that, sugar,” leaning forward, he pulls the cigar from the corner of his mouth and outs it on the arm of the steel patio furniture, slips the remainder in the front pocket of his jacket.

Logan gently brushes his nose against her breastbone, able to scent the sweetness beneath her skin. He tries to forget what it tastes like, hands instead slipping around her middle to gently knead the burning muscle of her shoulders, knots that are hot to touch, “You need somethin’ from me?”

It means everything and nothing, stirs his dick like a fucking ocean.

Her voice is resigned, small. “Not that, not right now," fingers card through his hair, a small smile teasing the corner of her pretty mouth, “can I just talk about some things, for the weekend? V’missed you.” Her hands move to gently skip her nails through his beard, Logan’s fingers tracing the line of her thong, temptingly.

“Sit back, honey. You’re crowding my seat, Wolverine.” Wolverine. Always her Wolverine, she’s always his. Two Wolverines. 

Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine the idea would be so good. 

Logan doesn’t need to be told again.

Shifting his hips forward, making room on the spread of his thighs, she swings a leg over him and gently seats herself on the plush of his thighs. Reaching past him for the pump, Logan relishes in her weight, how it straddles the cradle of his hips something beautiful, how it manages to constrict his chest to barely breathing levels of oxygen deprivation.

Keening, head spinning, she begins to hand express, the soft whir whir whir of the pump beneath her hand taking up more space in his ears than should be considered righteous. 

Staying busy on her body is never a problem—his hands grab at the meat of her opened thighs, fabric of the thong at the juncture of her legs pulled so tight he’s liable to snap in half.

Dizzy on the cocktail of scent—of her core, her skin, the saccahrine sweet of milk, eucalyptus in her hair—he can’t even manage a drink of his now-lukewarm beer. Sweat seeps through the layers of his clothes, riling up his skin — he’s hot to the point of overdrive. Redline and it’s stupid.

Fairly certain that he’ll bite the inside of his cheek until it’s shredded to nothing, Logan is all but a little dizzy when she takes his chin between her fingers. 

God, please — don’t ever let it not be like this. “Logan? You listenin’ to me?”

Her brow peaks, his hand lifting of its own will to her opposite breast. Mostly ignoring his touch, she bites the corner of her bottom lip—he feels her bristle under the attention. Pull of muscle in her legs is unmistakable, God Himself could see it.

“Hey, focus, will you? I’m asking you something, here.”

He hasn’t, not truthfully. She said something about the lady's group at the little church down the way inviting her somewhere, probably for the weekend. He’s too selfish to let her go but could deny her nothing — something about Laura swims through the back of his head, but he isn’t sure.

How she expects him to think straight, dressed so pretty in hardly anything, he’ll never understand. 

His lifted brow and cocksure smile gives her pause, she pushes at his shoulder and rolls her eyes. “Good God, Logan, you’re impossible,” and she goes to swing off his thighs, but his hands at her hips hold her fast, drags her down to his lap. A little harder, until her full weight drops.

He groans, but tries not to growl —it’s a sad attempt, really.

“Baby, please, this is important t’me —” 

Oh, and he knows. “Mhm, I know that,” his chuckle is breathless, airy—turns into a twisting, dark growl when he pulls at the line of her thong, snaps it against her little rolls that he’s been dreaming about for days, “mmm—nrgh—but darlin’ —”

“I’ll suck you off later, Logan – but I’m talking to you about Eli. You know, our son? Would you concentrate just a little, please?”

Aw, hell—Nothing about her tone is serious, but mention of her tight mouth on him severs his last bit of composure.

God only designed a man for so much, he was within Biblical grounds for fucking her within an inch of her precious, regenerative life.

His head snaps up at attention from the back of the chair, and with a dark glint of a smile, he drives her hips down hard on his thigh, her gasp a little too strong to be that surprised.

And he holds her there, knuckles white with the effort to drive her weight fully against the line of his muscle.

“Talk like that is li’ble to get you fucked out of your mind, darlin’,” sitting forward, he presses a hot kiss to the curve of her unoccupied tit, fighting her hand away from the pump to manage it himself, harsher than necessary, “I am this close to losin’ my fuckin’ composure, baby, so be nice.”

Mean, he rips her robe down off her shoulder to suck a hard, dark mark onto the top of her breast, and she all but collapses against his chest, the taste of her pearling sweat almost savory against his tongue. 

“You’re so mean, Lo,” breathless, her lips skip over the throbbing pulse in his neck. “Just want you to distract me,” sing-song, feigning innocent sobriety, his pretty wife’s tongue lathes at the pool of his collarbone, tongue dragging at the sheen of sweat drawing up on his skin at her touch, low against his Adonis belt.

“It hurts, you know,” now it’s quiet, an admission. It should whip him into shape, but instead, it takes him apart.

“Just wanna talk.” 

Logan’s mocking chortle is dismissive, if not a little cold. 

 “Fuck me,” breathless, his hand finds her hair and pulls her up, into a hard kiss that’s wet, hungry. Her breathy moan is shallow, and Logan forgets all about the busyness of his hand at her tit.

“You wanna talk. Fuck, darlin’— it’s been five days.” 

“You’re such a kid,” matching his meanness is one of his favorite ploys, it’s enough to driving him over the edge of sanity. “Can’t live five days without me — whatever did you do before me, Logan?” 

Taking her face in his hands, he pulls back, tucking a curl behind her ear.

“Dreamed of you,” the corner of his mouth ticks up in a quicksilver little smirk, “I still dream’a you, darlin’, whenever I ain’t here.” Kissing her slowly, unhurried, her taste is like honey. Her body like home, an extension of him he can’t even begin daydreaming of without wanting to weep. 

Giggling, awwwws him like a child. “I suppose I should give you somethin’ to dream about, huh, Lo?” 

And his dreams have never been so alive. 

@sidkneeeee

@thevoicefromanotherworld

@misscrissfemmefatale

@eternallyfrustratedwriter

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@laaadygisbooornex3

@itsafullmoon

@kmc1989

@steviebbboi

@matronmothercrone

[sserpente]

A blood bath to die a little death for (Kinktober #3)

You take a bath with Astarion. Oh, the things you can do in there...

A/N: I’ve been meaning to write this one for so long. It’s kind of inspired by that scene with Damon from The Vampire Diaries. Also, I think those “Baldurian” bathtubs are just super cute.

Words: 1073 Warnings: smut, blood play, biting

“You know for a rogue you are being incredibly loud and unsubtle. I can hear you breathing, Astarion. And that’s saying something because you don’t even need to breathe.” You chuckled when he snorted in response and moved out of the shadows.

The others were out, so it couldn’t have been anyone else secretly watching you bathe.

You flipped around in the wooden tub to face him with a smile. The warm water was pure heaven for your sore muscles. Besides, taking the time to do more than wash blood off your body after another fight, was a luxury at this point.

Astarion’s gaze drifted over your bare form. Hunger reflected in his red eyes, though you were not entirely sure which kind of hunger it was. Your smile widened.

“Care to join me? The tub is big enough for both of us.”

Another snort, this time an amused one.

“Darling, there is nothing I’d like more.”

“Take your clothes off then. You look pretty without them.”

Astarion laughed at your flirtation. Piece after piece, he removed his clothing until he was as naked as you were. You watched him as he climbed into the tub, his muscles dancing in the process. Damn…he might have been the one who was the vampire but he did look like a snack. Not only was he handsome and sexy but he was also beautiful. Not many men could claim they were.

“Are you done admiring me, my love?”

You giggled when you were caught and moved over to him to straddle his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“I’m hoping that we can take baths together every night once this is all over.”

He smirked. “I hope so too. Without our…companions, mind you.”

“Of course. We’ll find our own cosy little spot somewhere here in Baldur’s Gate. Although it will probably take me a while to adjust my sleep schedule to yours.”

“You…you would?”

“Of course. How else would we spend time together? And we’ll have a massive bedroom with a king-size bed and black-out curtains so you don’t have to worry about the sun.”

“We’ll have only one bed?”

You hummed at his adorable question. Sometimes it still seemed like he couldn’t quite believe you wanted to be with him.

“We will. Why? Are you scared I’ll bite?” You chuckled at your own joke.

Astarion wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. “Very funny, darling. But…truth be told…I’m feeling a bit peckish.”

You rested your forehead against his. “Go ahead. We’re alone.”

“Indeed we are, my love. Indeed we are.”

You expected him to playfully pull you by the hair to reveal your neck to him. Instead, he spread your legs further and bucked his hips. Oh. He was rock-hard.

“So that’s the kind of hunger we’re talking about right now?” you asked with a grin.

“I say we make use of the time as long as we’re…undisturbed.”

“And you’re sure you want to? We don’t have to have sex just because we have a moment to ourselves…”

Astarion shut you up with a kiss. “I have been waiting to get you alone, darling.”

“If…you’re sure…” you breathed out when his erection pressed against your outer lips. It was as if he’d pressed a button to turn you on. With every playful stroke up to tease your clit you grew wetter for him, ready to take him.

“Astarion…” His name left your lips like a prayer when you sank down on top of him, letting him impale you on his cock. He growled as if he was about to devour you when you bucked your hips to meet his thrusts in the warm water, your limbs still entwined.

There was something about doing it in the bathtub, enveloped by warmth and silky wetness. Astarion seemed to think so too. His strokes were frantic as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to take things slowly or chase his orgasm.

Your eyes met and you smiled, your lips slightly parted. Continuous moans escaped you whenever he hit one of those hidden pleasure spots until eventually, he pressed you up against him so he was sheathed inside you to the hilt, and his pelvis ground against your clit. Oh, good gods…

“Go on…ride me,” he purred.

He didn’t need to tell you twice. Hunting your own pleasure until he was satisfied with you, you did just that until you were on the brink of orgasm, ready to fall—into a rabbit hole of bliss and his arms. Astarion was a surprisingly patient lover and he claimed that he loved the feeling of you clenching around him when you came, milking him for all he was worth.

You expected him to follow you as soon as your climax hit you and pleasure rippled through you like a thunderstorm. Instead, he bared his fangs and bit down on your shoulder—hard.

Blood poured from the sloppy wound, covering your back, your chest and eventually mixing with the bath water. You moaned at the foreign intrusion of his teeth in your skin as he lapped up your blood and drank his fill until the continued rocking of your hips stole away his composure too.

Astarion followed you down the abyss of pleasure, his cock twitching inside you and filling you with his seed all the while his fangs were still buried in your shoulder. You were both shuddering from satisfaction by the time he pulled away and gasped for air, a small trickle of blood running down the corner of his mouth. You longed to wipe it away with your thumb, to taste your blood on his lips.

“Hmm…you taste best when you’re aroused, darling.”

“G-Good…to know?” You chuckled weakly, shifting a little on his lap to feel his softening member inside of you still. “We’ll need another bath now, look at this.”

You gestured at the bloody bath water. Astarion laughed. A surprised moan escaped your lips when his tongue darted out to lick away the remaining blood dripping over your right breast, his mouth lingering around your hardened nipple for just a little too long. “We best get started then. Although I don’t think I would mind the others seeing us like this…they can all know you’re mine.”

You shook your head and kissed him on the lips. You already saw yourself stealing some scrolls from Gale to make the water fill up faster.

[ladelinee]

Authors note: I had so much fun writing this that I finished quickly. Maybe I will take longer with the next episode, as the next two weeks are very intense for me 🥲 Enjoy!!

Word count: 3,5K

Warnings: angst, innocent, a bit aggresive E, fluff.

Dontcha’ think It’s time

Part 2 (Part 1 here)

Before you reached the stairs, you could listen already the clinking silverware, lively chatter, and Elvis’s booming laughter. The smell of bacon, toast, and coffee pulled you toward the dining room.

Inside, chairs scraped, voices overlapped, and the Memphis Mafia crowded around the table, plates piled high.

At the center, little Lisa Marie sat in her high chair, happily making a mess spilling cereals.

Lisa spotted you right away. Her face lit up with a big, messy grin.

“You sittin’ by me?” she asked fascinated, her voice slightly muffled by the cereal in her mouth.

“Good morning, Yisa. Of course!” you replied with a warm smile while sliding into the seat next to her.

Lisa giggled, she was excited to enjoy breakfast with you.

Elvis, seated at the head of the table, glanced up. He noticed the interaction, the way Lisa beamed at you, and that put a smile on his face.

Leaning forward slightly, his eyes softened as he said “Mornin’, sugar” his voice smooth and welcoming. “How’d ya sleep?”

You looked over at him, your nerves easing at his kind tone. “Good, thanks. The bed is really comfortable.”

“Well, that’s good to hear” he replied, leaning back in his chair, coffee in hand. “Graceland ain’t that bad, is it?”

“No, it’s really nice” you answered honestly, feeling a bit more at ease.

Elvis nodded, pleased.

Across the table, Joe piped up, breaking the short moment of calm. “Hey, E, the tailor has been waiting for you to confirm a date. Them jumpsuits of yours are about ready to give up.”

“Yeah” Red added, cutting into his pancakes with a grin. “Keep movin’ like you do on stage, and those seams ain’t got a prayer.”

The table roared with laughter as Elvis rolled his eyes, though his grin betrayed his amusement.

“You boys got jokes this mornin’, huh?” he answered back between laughs. “Tell the tailor to come by tomorrow. And careful now, you’re talkin’ to the man who makes sure y’all get breakfast every day.”

Red grinned back. “That’s true, E. But maybe if you laid off the damn bacon those seams wouldn’t be screamin’ for help.”

Elvis shot him a mock glare as the room erupted in laughter again. But before he could retort, Lisa’s little voice piped up, clear as a bell.

“Damn bacon” she let out, nodding as if she agreed with Red.

Everyone laughed at the joke except Elvis, who sighed playfully. He wasn't impressed because Lisa was at that age of repeating everything.

Setting his coffee cup down slowly, Elvis licked his lips, stretched his arms, and cracked his neck like a man about to deliver the final blow. Then, with a smirk so lethal it could knock a man flat, he pointed his fork straight at Red.

“Listen here, I ain’t eatin’ all this bacon for me, man. I’m carb-loadin’ for later… gotta keep my energy up for your mama.”

The guys detonated.

Jerry fell against Charlie, grabbing his chest like he’d been shot. Charlie was howling, pounding the table so hard the syrup bottle tipped over.

Elvis took another bite of bacon, chewed slowly, and winked.

Red threw his hands up. “Man, what the hell, E?! I ain’t even say nothin’ that bad!”

Elvis just shrugged, taking a long sip of coffee. “Well, maybe next time you’ll think twice before talkin’ about me and my jumpsuits. ’Cause trust me, man, ain’t nothin’ burstin’ at the seams but your mama’s breathin’ when I walk through the door.”

“I’m done. I’m done.” Red slammed his napkin on the table.

Elvis grinned, popping another piece of bacon in his mouth. “Yeah, well… your mama ain’t.”

You sat calmly, hands resting on the table, taking it all in. You were watching and listening, completely absorbed. You didn’t understand every jab being thrown, but still. The way he shot back, so quick, so clever… it was something to admire. You fixed your eyes on him, wide with quiet awe, captivated by the effortless way he turned every joke in his favor.

You had no idea what was happening. But one thing was clear: Uncle Elvis was winning.

Elvis looked at you and instantly felt the weight of all his sins.

Red looked between you and Elvis and smirked. “Yeah, E… now you can’t say anything, huh?”

He shot Red a warning glare. “Oh, you dirty son of a…”

After few seconds Elvis swallowed real slow, suddenly feeling about ten degrees hotter. He glanced around: Charlie nudged Jerry. Jerry looked up, saw your sweet little face, and immediately covered his mouth, trying to hold in his laughter. Joe was staring directly at Elvis, mouthing, “Don’t. You. Do. It.”

Elvis cleared his throat, straightened his back, and gave you his most innocent, charming smile.

“Well now, sugar” he started smoothly, looking you dead in the eye. “Let’s just say… your ol’ Uncle does a lotta charity work”

The table lost it.

Joe was laughing quietly, struggling to catch his breath and kicking his legs. Jerry was nearly in tears. Red's face was all red, and he was mumbling something about how the Lord was testing him.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Jerry added, “E, you’re going straight to hell, man.”

The playful teasing helped you unwind, and soon enough, you were laughing along with the jokes, a sense of belonging settling in.

Noticing you loosening up, Red smirked and leaned toward you. “See? Give it a year, and you’ll be just as wild as the rest of us.”

“Yeah, but for now, take it easy, Red. She’s just a little girl.” Jerry swallowed a piece of toast, smirking.

Hearing Jerry’s words stirred something inside you. Since the atmosphere they created was making you feel comfortable, you decided to bring this up. Excitement began to shine in your eyes as you declared with a smile, “Well, not for long. Uncle Elvis is gonna make me a woman.”

The room fell into an instant, stunned silence. Forks hovered midair, coffee cups stopped halfway to lips, not a single breathing, and wide-eyed glances darted across the table.

Elvis paused mid-sip, his coffee cup still hovering close to his mouth. He froze, staring at the scene blankly. Slowly, he lowered his hand, the cup dangling from his fingers as he looked around to see how everyone was reacting.

Red made the mistake of looking at Elvis, saw the absolute panic on his face, and lost the battle. His chest jerked with a barely contained snort.

Charlie’s face turned toward the ceiling, eyes shut tight, fighting for composure, while Joe shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Elvis like he was waiting for him to say something.

But the real problem, the reason the laughter was strained, the reason no one could quite look Elvis in the eye, was that the idea wasn’t actually impossible.

By experience, they all knew better.

Before Elvis could even pronounce a word, you continued innocently, completely unaware of the tension. “He said he’d teach me about what men like and how to be more confident, so I figured…”

Lisa, completely oblivious, grinned up at you, swinging her legs.

“Darlin’, I told y-“

Elvis didn’t even get to finish before Jerry leaned in, his voice low but urgent. “You might wanna hit the brakes before this train goes completely off the rails.”

In return, Elvis shot him a glare. “You think I don’t know that?”

Turning back to you, he forced a strained smile. “Now, sugar, what I meant was-“

“But you said-“

“I know what I said” Elvis cut in quickly, his voice tightening up with irritation.

Charlie decided to pour gasoline on the fire. “She’s got a point, E. You’re always braggin’ about how you know what women want.”

Elvis’s patience snapped. “Charlie, I swear to God…”

But you weren’t done. “And it makes sense, right? You said you know what men want, and if anyone can make me a woman, it’s you, Uncle Elvis!”

That was the final straw. The room went nuts, their laughter transforming into a strange mix of hiccuping, snorting, and wheezing. It sounded like a bunch of chickens getting spooked and a pack of turkeys doing their gobble thing, creating a total circus.

Elvis, however, didn’t find it funny.

“Alright, that’s enough!” he shouted. He slammed his hand on the table, making everyone jump. His face was bright red, and his eyes blazed with frustration. Every time he tried to speak, someone cut him off. His patience was gone.

The room quieted suddenly, giggles dying out in an instant. Lisa's attention snapped to her father, her eyes wide and glued to his face.

You shrank in your seat, your face red with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean anything bad” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Elvis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know you didn’t, sugar” he said, his voice softer but still firm. “But you can’t…you just can’t say things like that. Not like that. Not here.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you pushed your chair back. “I’m sorry” you said quickly, bolting from the room before anyone could stop you.

No one spoke. No one dared.

Elvis exhaled heavily, dragging a hand down his face. The men exchanged uneasy glances until Jerry finally broke the silence. “Well…that went south fast.”

Elvis shot him a warning look but remained silent.

Red smirked softly “E, this is just a taste of what’s comin’. Wait till Lisa’s her age. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

Elvis glanced at Lisa, who had returned to her cereal as if nothing had happened.

“Lisa” he said tiredly, “finish your breakfast. And behave when you get older, ya hear me?”

Lisa looked up at him, confused but obedient. “Okay, Daddy” she replied, taking another bite.

As soon as breakfast was over, Elvis let out a quiet curse before standing abruptly and leaving the table.

He made his way upstairs, pausing outside your door to knock softly.

“Darlin’? You in there?”

No response. He hesitated, then turned the doorknob.

The room was empty.

Elvis’s stomach sank as he scanned the hallway, his worry mounting.

“Jerry!” he called with sharp voice. “Get everyone. She’s gone.”

You ran down the driveway of Graceland, your feet pounding on the hot pavement. As you neared the end, the city of Memphis sprawled out before you, alive with activity, a sea of unknown but filled with the promise of answers.

You didn’t stop. Not when the air burned your lungs, not when the weight of this morning’s turmoil pressed against your chest. You weaved through pedestrians.

Finally, the library stood before you.

You pushed open the doors, stepping into the cool, hushed space. “If no one’s gonna help me” you muttered under your breath, determination settling in your bones. “I’ll find out myself.”

Some time later, Elvis was behind the wheel of his Cadillac, the engine roaring as it crawled down the streets of Memphis. His knuckles were tight on the steering wheel. Jerry sat in the passenger seat, glancing anxiously between Elvis and the road ahead.

“E, you’ve been drivin’ in circles for an hour”

Elvis ignored him, his sharp blue eyes inspecting the sidewalks. “She couldn’t have gone far” he muttered.

Jerry sighed. “Look, maybe she just needed some air. She’s not gonna do anything crazy.”

“You didn’t see the way she looked when she left that table, Jerry. I snapped at her, and she ran off feelin’ like she’s got no one to talk to. Hell, I wouldn’t stick around after that, either.”

Jerry leaned back, crossing his arms. “She doesn’t know what she’s doin’. She just needs to cool off, and so do you.”

Elvis didn’t answer. He slowed the car as they passed the library, something catching his eye. He squinted at the front doors.

“There” he said suddenly, pulling over to the curb with a screech.

Jerry craned his neck. “You think she’s in there?”

Elvis didn’t reply. He threw the car into park, climbed out, and strode toward the library doors, his pace quick but steady. Jerry hesitated for a moment, then let out a sigh, shoved his hands into his pockets, and leaned against the car, eyes fixed on the library doors.

You were still flipping through books, growing more and more stressed. Your fingers trembled as you picked up another, then another, the words on the pages blurring together in your frustration.

“What’s all this about?”

The deep, familiar voice made you freeze. You looked up to see Elvis standing at the end of the aisle, his hands on his hips, his eyes fixed on you.

You sighed, guilt and relief flooding your face.

Elvis walked closer, crouching down so he was eye level with you. His gaze softened when he saw the pile of books around you, and the frustration written all over your face. “What are you doin’ in here, honey? You had us all worried.”

You glanced down at the book in your hands, fidgeting with the corner of the page. “I just…I thought maybe the library would help. My parents always said books have the answers, but none of these books explain anything about…”

“About what?” Elvis asked gently, his tone calm and patient now.

You hesitated, then blurted out, “About how to be a woman. I thought if no one was gonna help me, I’d figure it out myself. But these books don’t make sense!”

He glanced at the titles around you, understanding dawning on his face. “Sugar,” he said softly, “you don’t need no books for that.”

You looked up at him, your eyes glossy with tears. “Then how am I supposed to learn? I just…I want to understand what I’m supposed to do, what I’m supposed to be.”

Elvis let out a long breath, sitting down on the floor beside you, leaning his back against the bookshelf. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared down at the books scattered around you.

“Listen to me, darlin’” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “There ain’t no book out there that’s gonna tell you how to be a woman. That’s somethin’ you figure out on your own, little by little.”

“But I don’t even know where to start” you said, your voice small.

Elvis reached out, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder, making you look at him. “I’ll help ya, honey, as best as I can. But don’t go running off thinking you’re on your own.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and you sniffled, nodding. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“I know you didn’t” he said, his voice soft. “And I didn’t mean to snap at you. That’s on me, sugar. M’sorry.”

You nodded again, the tension in your chest starting to ease. Elvis stood, brushing off his pants, and extended a hand to you.

“C’mon” he said with a small smile. “Let’s get you back home. You got the whole house worried about ya.”

The rest of the day, you felt a little more at ease.

For the first time in a long while, you felt supported. Like maybe… you weren’t so alone after all.

Even so, when night fell, sleep wouldn’t come.

You tossed and turned, kicking off the blanket, pulling it back on again, but nothing helped. Your mind wouldn’t settle.

Finally, with a sigh, you pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed. You hesitated at the doorway.

You still felt a little uncomfortable moving around on your own in a house that wasn’t yours. Everything felt too big, too unfamiliar, too grand. But waking someone up? That felt even worse.

So, you forced yourself forward.

Graceland was different at night. The house was silent, dimly lit, wrapped in shadows. The soft white carpet felt cool under your bare feet.

When you reached the kitchen, you traced your fingers along the cabinets, finding the fridge by touch alone. The soft glow illuminated the space as you pulled it open.

Carefully, you poured the milk and warmed it up the way your mother used to.

The moment the warmth hit your fingertips, you sighed, finally feeling something familiar. Something that felt safe.

You were ready to take that first, much-needed sip, and then you realized you weren’t alone.

Leaning against the counter, watching you, stood Elvis. His robe was hanging loosely, and his hair was messy, making him look different.

Finally, he spoke.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice was low, rough from the lateness of the hour.

You shook your head, “You either?” still gripping your glass.

Elvis let out a quiet huff, lifting the drink in his hand slightly. “I don’t do much of that these days.”

You hesitated, shifting slightly before finally stepping toward the counter, perching on one of the stools. You suddenly felt small in the space, small in his presence.

Elvis’s gaze flickered over you, noticing something, thinking, but keeping it to himself. He took a slow sip of his drink before exhaling through his nose.

“I told you I’d teach you a few tips, and I meant that” he murmured, his voice steady. “But I think you already learned the first lesson on your own.”

You frowned slightly. “What lesson?”

Elvis leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter.

“You had initiative to do what your heart wanted” he said. “You made a decision for yourself, without anyone tellin’ you what to do.” A small smirk touched his lips. “And… you’re willin’ to change. That’s admirable, sugar.”

A warm feeling curled in your chest.

Elvis wasn’t the kind of man who gave compliments easily, not the ones that mattered.

But just as the moment started to feel too heavy, too serious.

He suddenly leaned back, stretching slightly.

“Ah, and also” he added, pointing at you, “you’re grounded for escapin’.”

You nearly choked on your milk. “What?!”

Elvis smirked, taking another sip of his drink. “Yeah. Sorry, young lady, but I gotta stick to it.”

“You don’t even ground people!”

“I do now” he said, chuckling. “First time for everything.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “This is so unfair.”

Elvis just shook his head, his laughter soft but real.

The moment softened, and for a second, it almost felt normal again.

Then, you studied him a little closer. His face wasn’t guarded like it usually was. He seemed… different.

“You look different at night,” you said out of nowhere, tilting your head.

Elvis raised a brow, smirking slightly. “That so?”

You nodded, taking a sip of your milk. “Yeah. You seem… I don’t know. Less like ‘Elvis Presley’ and more like… just you.”

Elvis exhaled a short laugh, shaking his head. “Darlin’, I don’t even know what ‘just me’ is anymore.”

You frowned, watching him carefully. “Well… I think you’re the best person I know.”

That made him stop.

His fingers tensed subtly around his glass. His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to speak, but then he hesitated. He had spent years battling to separate the man from the artist, struggling for people to see the difference between who he was and who they expected him to be. But you were too young to understand the weight of that fight, and he wasn’t about to launch into a speech. Instead, he swallowed the thought, keeping it to himself.

You didn’t know why, but you wanted him to believe you. So you continued.

“I…I think you’re kind, and funny, and you make everyone feel safe. And I don’t think people tell you that enough.”

Elvis stared at you, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.

His blue eyes flickered in the dim light, studying your face. Then, before you could think, his hand lifted, fingers grazing along your cheek.

“Appreciate it, darlin’”he said, his smile warm and sincere.

The touch was light, barely there, but it sent a strange feeling through you.

It was warm. It was soft. It made something deep in your stomach flutter in a way you didn’t understand.

You looked up at him, your breath hitching slightly. He was so tall, and his hand seemed enormous compared to your face.

Elvis seemed to realize how you were reacting to what he had just done.

His hand lingered just a second too long, his thumb brushing the corner of your jaw, before he suddenly pulled away like if the surface was burning, clearing his throat.

Elvis shifted, suddenly looking tense, uncomfortable. He ran a hand through his hair, reaching for his drink like he needed something to do.

You swallowed, confused by the strange feeling left behind.

The athmosphere in the kitchen felt heavier now. Different.

Elvis downed the rest of his drink in one go and turned his back to you.

“Alright, honey” he said, voice tighter now, forced into something lighter. “Time for bed.”

You hesitated, still feeling the ghost of his touch on your skin.

But finally, you nodded.

“Okay.”

You slid off the stool, heading for the doorway.

Elvis didn’t turn around.

As you walked back to your room, you weren’t sure what had just happened.

You didn’t know why your heart was beating too fast.

You didn’t know why your skin still felt warm.

And you didn’t know why as soon as the door clicked shut behind you…

Elvis let out a long, sharp breath and muttered under his breath, “Shit.”

Part 3 here!

Tag: @iloveelvisss

[fieldofdaisiies]

Alone

ship: Theodore Nott x Hufflepuff!Reader type: angst/fluff word count: 2,6k words warnings: mentions of racist parents, awful parent child relationship, talk of war and Death Eaters summary: Y/N and Theo are childhood friends, when she receives a howler from her mother that breaks her, he is there for her. (I'll blame @azrielscrown for her amazing Theo stories and hence making me want to write about him, and also @moonlightazriel for the tiktok videos she sent me hahaha)

It is quiet. So very quiet. All of a sudden everyone stops talking. There aren’t even any hushed whispers. Nothing.

It is so quite that one could hear a needle drop. 

So quiet that even the mice in the smallest nooks and corners of the castle could hear your mother’s voice blaring out of the howler that has just unfolded itself in front of you. Its tongue poking out, the howler spats the exact same words your mother shouted into it in your family manor.

The words drip with venom. Disdain and disappointment lace every spoken syllable. 

Your blood runs cold, your chin quivering, as you watch and listen in absolute shock. Your whole body has gone rigid, you don't even dare turn to glance around, not wanting to see the either mocking or pitiful looks of your school mates. 

How would she know? How does she know? And why is she so mad? 

It was just a school project, not your decision to spend time with him. You had to spend time with Harry Potter — it was for a Potions project, preparing a recipe, trying it out and then presenting it in class. It was project where you were assigned partners. A project where you were forced to spend time together. And even if you don't hate Harry, you would not have chosen to do the project. But you had no choice.

'The shame you brought upon this family by being sorted into Hufflepuff.'

There is a pause, and it is so long, so dreadful, so painful, and you just hope the letter won’t continue talking. Maybe it is over and the letter will just rip itself into shreds — the same shreds your heart has been ripped into when the letter started howling.

Or maybe a hole in the ground will open, and swallow you wholly? A ghost will appear and take you with him? A giant will crash both you and the letter?

But your prayers are ignored. Of course they are…

'And now, now you are doing partner work with him? Spending your free afternoons with him? What comes next? Dating a Muggle? Marrying one?'

'Y/N Y/L/N, in this house I allow none of that!'

Your best friend slides her hand into your cold one, squeezing it tightly. She is the purest and kindest soul Hufflepuff house has ever seen and in this very moment you are more grateful to have her than ever before. She somehow grounds you, stops your body from shaking or convulsing fully. 

'I am deeply disappointed. So very much. What you do to this family, the shame you bring upon us.'

That’s how the letter ends. No well wishes, no goodbye, no I love you, no motherly love. Nothing.

You are shocked, sad, embarrassed — feeling too much. Too many emotions. Your heart can’t take them, can’t deal with them all at once and you know you have to leave, get away, escape. Cry. And be alone. 

You need to get out of the Great Hall. And that right now. 

You know your friends want to support you, comfort you, but sometimes you just need to be alone.

Your voice sounds choked, throat constricted, as you climb over the bench, the howler still in pieces on the table.

"I am sorry, I need to be alone now." You run, weaving your way through the pupils crowded in the Great Hall and the corridors outside. Tears start to burn behind your eyes, clouding your vision and your throat starts to burn. 

You run, run until your feet ache, slumping down on the ground, sliding down the ball. And then the damn breaks. Hot, burning tears rolling down your cheeks, as one ragged sob after the other leaves you. 

It hurts so much, growing up in a family like this. It is so painful. Your mother's words, laced with venom, still reverberate through your mind, loud and awful, filling every fibre of your being. A cool shiver makes its way down your spine, making you shiver. 

You draw in a deep inhale, your breathing shaky, lower lip quivering. Closing your eyes, you let your head rest against the wall, replaying every single word she said to you. 

The eerie silence of the corridor and your calm sobs are suddenly interrupted by the faint echo of footsteps nearing. You have no time to make guesses who it could be, finding you sitting behind a corner, back pressed against the wall to almost become invisible. 

"Are you…alright?"

It is strange seeing him like this. He is always so confident, so cocky, arrogant, silver-tongued. And not so…reserved, and at a loss for words. Your desperate state has probably shocked him, you think, trying to hold his gaze, but the tears are coming back again. 

"I am…fine," you croak, the lie in your voice louder than the Howler you received earlier. 

Theo breathes out a cold chuckle. "That was the worst lie I've ever heard, Y/N."

His voice is flat, his expression stoic. He just looks at you, his normally confident demeanour nowhere in sight. "And I thought you Hufflepuffs are those goody-two-shoes who never lie."

You watch how the corner of his mouth tips upwards, but only shortly. He quickly presses his lips in a thin line, something he has always done when thinking deeply. A crease appears on his forehead, eyes solely focused on you.

You have known Theo basically since the day you were born. He is two months older than you, both of you coming from noble pureblood families, your father's had once been good friends, are still probably, but you don't really know. When you were placed in Hufflepuff…things changed. 

Also the friendship with Theo changed. He got distanced, you did too. Being friends with him was somehow no longer possible, and still isn't. You are not rude towards each other, he also always stayed out when the Slytherins mocked you and your housemates, but he has also never sought you out to spend time with you…and neither did you.

You have been growing apart and this is alright — some friendships are not forever. Or at least that is what you always tell yourself. 

"I…I just had to get out."

He nods, slowly, and in understanding. "I always come here when I want to be alone."

"Yes, that is why I am here, I want to be alone." You hope he gets the memo…that you want to be alone. Fully alone.

Not deigning him another look, you bury your face in your hands again, knees pulled up to your chest. It is not in your nature to be rude to anyone, but…

"I know I should probably leave…" But he moves closer.

"I heard what the howler said and I don’t really want to—"

"Everyone heard what the Howler said." A humourless chuckle escapes you and you lift your head. Theo is already looking at you, his eyes, meeting your red and puffy ones. Pain flashes in his eyes, bright and stark and you feel yourself shiver.

He nods slowly, almost like he wants to tell you it is not the truth, hoping it will ease the pain and discomfort a little, but he says nothing. And that for a long moment. Until—

He closes the distance between the two of you, claiming the spot on the ground beside you. 

"I am sorry," he says, stretching out his long legs and leaning his head against the stone wall behind him. "I am so sorry for what she said and that everyone had to hear."

"It is not your fault, you don't have to apologise." You furrow your brows as you turn to look at him. 

His eyes are filled with concern. You can still feel the embarrassment, the way the entire hall had turned to watch as the red envelope exploded in a blaze of your mother's fury and rage. Everyone became witness to your misery…

You swallow hard, trying to push the memory aside, but it lingers like an illness that just won't get better. 

"Y/N," Theo says, his voice softer than what you are used to. "I can't believe she sent you this letter…"

"Howler," you correct him, wearing a forced smile.

The corner of his mouth curls up, and he casually runs a hand through his hair. "Indeed, a Howler, you smartass."

You chuckle, and playfully nudge him with your elbow. But then you shake your head, take a deep breath and shrug."You know how she is. Always expecting more, always disappointed in me."

Theo reaches out, his hand brushing gently against yours. He does not take your hand into his, just rests it next to yours on the ground, your pinkies touching. "You don't have to listen to her, Y/N. You're so much more than what she thinks of you."

You draw in a shaky breath, thankful about his presence.

Funny, you think. You would not have thought that exactly his presence would bring you so much comfort now. You had wanted to be alone just moments before, but talking to him feels somehow good. "Thank you," you say.

He smiles. "Of course." But he does not look away, keeps holding your gaze, his hand shifting the tiniest bit, his pinkie finger now placed on top of yours.

The dimly lit sconces cast eerie flickers of light upon the stone walls, and also on you two. His lashes look longer in this light, casting shadows across his cheeks, his eyes looking so much deeper. And soon you realise you are staring at him. 

It feels like he leans closer, but you could also be mistaken.. And yet, his presence wraps around you, like a gentle embrace or a warm winter coat. And, with his voice barely above a whisper, Theo says. "You deserve so much better than this."

Tears glisten in your eyes once more. His gaze is intense, filled with an emotion you have not really seen on him before. "Thank you for being here for me."

"I am your friend, of course I am." 

Your expression must have given you away.

He huffs, and lowers his chin to his chest. "Well, at least I hope we are still friends…"

For a long moment silence stretches out between you because first of all, you did not expect that statement and secondly, you don't know how to answer.

Are you really friends? Still?

You’ve doubted it in the past years, you’ve never talked to each other, unless you had to do so in class. You’ve never spent time together. This is not what you would call a friendship. 

"I don't know, are we?" you answer honestly, and a small smile appears on his face. "I can't blame you for not considering me your friend anymore…"

It is still strange seeing him like this. He has never been like this…so vulnerable somehow. 

"I know I should have been here for you so much more in these past years."

This is not at all what you expected, and it confuses you greatly. Is he blaming himself for not being here? You also did not reach out to him, you did not seek him out, and you are in different houses.

"There is no blame on you!" Your voice is stronger, firmer, wanting him to see that it is absolute bullshit that he is talking. "Why would you say something like this?"

He shrugs. "I am…" He does not continue, only draws in a deep inhale, and leans his head against the wall. His eyes close for a moment.

There has always been a connection between you, a connection that is still somehow there, even though you might no longer be friends. The kind of friends you once used to be.

You also lean back against the wall, your own eyes closing, his finger still touching yours. It is such a tiny gesture, but you feel it everywhere. Feel him so strongly. 

Theo breaks the silence, his voice quieter when he says. "Y/N, I want you to know...I've always cared about you more than just a friend."

Your heart skips a beat, and you open your eyes, turn your head and look up at him, your eyes meeting his gaze. "Theo..."

"I know it's complicated," he continues, his hand now flipping yours over and taking it into his. "I can't pretend anymore. And seriously, if Draco or Blaise would see me like that right now…stumbling over my own words, they would call me the biggest fool on this planet, but I need you to know…"

He groans almost like in frustration, and squeezes your hand. 

"In Salazar's name, why is this so fucking hard?" A chuckle escapes him, but you only look at him, not sure if you are ready for his confession. 

"I'm in love with you, Y/N. And I have been for the longest time."

Your breath catches in your throat, and a mixture of emotions swirls within you, a whirlwind starting for a whole new reason now. "Theo, I..." You hesitate, not sure what to say.

He smiles and shakes his head. "You don't have to say anything right now. I just needed you to know. And if you ever need someone to talk to, to be there for you, I'll always be here, I want you to know this."

This is a side of him, you think, only you know. And only you know since this very moment. He has never been like this before, he is not like that to others and it makes your chest warm from the inside. 

Tears well up in your eyes again, but this time they're not tears of sadness — they’re tears of happiness and comfort. Without thinking you throw your arms around Theo and hug him tightly, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "Thank you, Theo. I... I really care about you too. I want you to know this."

He holds you close, his hand gently rubbing your back. "What happened today, and what is maybe about to come…we'll get through this together. You are not alone in this. I know you have your Hufflepuff friends, but you also have me."

He holds you tightly, and for as long as it takes the pain of the former happenings to ease. The weight of the howler and your mother's hurtful words begins to fade, replaced by the knowledge that you have someone who cares deeply for you by your side. His words and his confession were like balm to your soul, and they make you smile, even when you thought you wouldn't be smiling much this day. 

"I am really glad to have you back in my life."

He smiles, a genuine and adorable smile that makes your heart flutter. "I have always been in your life. Maybe we weren't that close, but our bond has always been there."

You nod, and draw in a deep inhale. "You are right."

When more pupils file into the corridors, you know lessons are probably soon about to start. You give his hand a final squeeze and slowly get up. "I'll see you later, Theo."

He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. "Take care, Y/N. I'll see you for lunch?"

You nod, a smile on your lips and his eyes momentarily dip to them.

With one last smile, you turn and head toward the Hufflepuff common room, your heart lighter. You know you can talk to him about the issues in your family, and he will listen, because he understands. Understands the pure blood nobility and problems.  And maybe, just maybe, there is also a chance for something more between the two of you in the future. He, after all, already confessed his love for you. 

[mya-valentine]

What if the league of villains had a S/O who is a petty savage? (Like Jade West from victorias or Sam Puckett from icarly) she's all sweet and nice but if any hero/ other villain, say something about her lover. That person better count their blessings and say their prayers because they're in for a rude awakening.🤣

Headcanon: L.O.V. With a Petty S/O

A/N: Sorry, this took entirely way too long 😭 and if you can't tell, I had so much fun writing this

Kurogiri

Kurogiri appreciates your duality—you're refined and polite, but if someone dares disrespect him, suddenly, you're threatening to shove them into one of his portals permanently.

He never has to raise his voice because you're already doing it for him, standing up for him like a protective attack dog in designer boots.

A hero once called him "Shigaraki’s babysitter"—you made sure they tripped into one of his warps and ended up miles away from where they were supposed to be.

"Oh, I'm sorry, was that your dignity I just threw into the abyss? Oops."

Mr. Compress

You have so much fun verbally wrecking people with him. He’ll roast someone in a classy, theatrical way, and you’ll come in with the finishing blow that leaves them speechless.

Someone insults his mask? Snatch. Now it's your mask, and you'll return it when they apologize.

A hero tried to be snarky about his missing arm—you made sure their boots were suddenly glued to the ground. "Wow, must be hard moving forward with a disadvantage, huh?"

He’s obsessed with how protective you are. He always bows dramatically and goes, "My hero," whenever you absolutely annihilate someone on his behalf.

Tomura Shigaraki

Listen, he’s the one who’s usually petty, but you? You take it to another level. You once spent a whole week making a pro hero’s life hell because they insulted his gaming skills.

"What did you say about my man? No, no, don’t backtrack now, you were talking big a second ago."

You handle the verbal attacks while he just stands there, scratching his neck and watching you go feral. He’s got heart eyes the entire time.

He once complained about Endeavor, and you immediately took it upon yourself to send an anonymous package filled with insults disguised as a fan letter.

Dabi

Dabi lives for the drama. Someone tries to roast him? Oh, babe, go ahead. Cook them.

You’re constantly out-pettying heroes and even other villains. You once used a hero's own catchphrase against them in an argument, and Dabi nearly set the building on fire from laughter.

Hawks made a slick comment about Dabi once—you made sure his next mission was full of unexpected inconveniences. "Wow, Hawks, those wings working slower than usual? Must be karma."

Dabi will 100% instigate. "Babe, did you hear what they said about me?" (They didn’t even say anything, he just wants to watch the chaos.)

Spinner

Spinner is not used to someone going feral on his behalf. At first, he's a little overwhelmed, but deep down? He loves it.

"You—you don’t have to go that hard for me—okay, you’re already doing it."

Someone once made a lizard joke at his expense, and before he could even react, you went, "Oh, I'm sorry, are you a biologist? No? Then shut your damn mouth."

You once fought someone in a GameStop parking lot because they insulted his gaming skills.

Twice

"Babe, you don’t have to—OH, YOU'RE ALREADY SWINGING!"

Twice adores you. Someone calls him unstable? You’re already in their face, asking if they’d like to experience real instability.

You once wrote a detailed list of all the reasons a hero sucked and left it in their locker. Twice kept a copy for fun.

He gets really emotional about how protective you are. "WOW, NO ONE’S EVER FOUGHT FOR ME LIKE THAT BEFORE! MARRY ME! No, seriously, marry me!"

Himiko Toga

You and Toga together? Dangerous. She already loves chaos, but you? You make sure the disrespect is handled properly.

Someone once called her creepy, and you made sure their social media was permanently ruined. "Oops, did I post that embarrassing childhood photo of you? Guess you shouldn’t have run your mouth."

She adores how savage you are. Sometimes she just sics you on people for fun. "Oh no, babe, they said something so mean about me—go get 'em!"

If someone flirts with her in front of you? You stare at them until they leave, and she finds it absolutely hilarious.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[biohaz6rd]

hal x fem!reader

pure sex under the cut. mdni u all know the drill ;p

“fuuuck,” hal drawls, his eyebrows furrowing and eyes fluttering shut as he slowly pushes his tip past the entrance of your slippery pussy, the heat of your cunt causing his heart to stop beating momentarily.

well, maybe not literally but he sure as hell felt like it had.

his grip on your hip tightens, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh as he forces his vision to come into focus again. god, hal had always loved coming home from a particularly long and rough mission and drowning himself in the tightness only your cunt could provide him with.

after a few moments of stillness, he pulls out of your wet heat before swiftly thrusting back in, a quiet gasp escaping you as he begins to fuck you the way he knows you like—slow, yet painstakingly hard.

“missed this so much, baby,” he mumbles breathily as he leans down to press a kiss to your soft shoulder. the pure need he feels for you is evident within his voice, a certain whiny quality lacing it.

methodically, he removes one of his hands from your hip to slowly run down the length of your naked spine, a soft sigh of pleasure pushing past his lips as he observes the way goosebumps rise to your skin from his touch.

“missed you so much.” he continues, whispering the words as if they were a prayer. and to him, they were. his hand comes to thread through your silken strands of hair, gripping onto it gently as he thrusts into you with purpose.

“you don’t know what you do to me, do you?” his whispered words coupled with the way his free hand snakes down your body to softly rub at your neglected clit makes you moan wantonly, your back arching even further and hands seeking purchase in the silk bedsheets.

hal jordan was pure sin. fuck, he was practically sex incarnate. that was a fact you had learnt fairly quickly in your relationship with the man but even now with him fucking you into oblivion, the realisation somehow takes you by surprise.

“yeah, that’s it, baby,” he encourages once he feels you clamp down on him, your velvet walls sucking him deeper into their depths. hal groans softly, his grip on your hair tightening involuntary, his chest heaving with laboured breaths as he continues to fuck you into next week.

a gentle, yet firm slap that he delivers to your clit has you coming around him with a cry, your front half limply falling forward into the pillows on your shared bed. hal follows suit not long after, a whine escaping the man as he paints the inside of your perfect, heavenly cunt with his cum.

he leans forward, blanketing your shivering form with his body, a multitude of worshipful kisses being pressed to your neck and shoulders.

“on your back, baby. didn’t think i was done with you yet, did you?” he taunts lovingly. a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as he pulls out of you with a lewd squelch in order to flip you onto your back, your beautiful eyes meeting his own.

“not a chance, sweetheart. missed you too damn much not to fuck ‘till the sun comes up.”

wow! i can still write! even if it’s not proofread. oops.

anyways, savour this post cus it’s probably going to be another few months before i can be bothered to write again!! 😄

[mt-oe]

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐧…𝐃𝐖𝐌𝐀?—soul eater au mizu!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

Firstly, thank you so much for always leaving funny and kind replies on my fics, and being so nice all the time <3 All of you motivate me so much and make me enjoy writing more ////

Second, I know this isn't a request, but it's my birthday today! I have no idea how to celebrate this year and what better way than to make a crossover with the first anime I've ever loved?

Truly, I'm so happy to be making something anyone can enjoy on my birthday. Thank you so much for appreciating my writing <3

Hope all of you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, mentions of weaponry, she/her he/him they/them for mizu, reader thinks mizu is a man

note/s: made mizu the weapon because of the scene where she said she was made of mixed metal

...

Ah...

It's so motherfucking hot.

Is Nevada...always like this?

Fuck.

"How much more?" you groaned out loud to yourself, collapsing on the seemingly never-ending staircase for the nth time that morning. Sweat was dripping down your forehead and back like bullets. You could feel your head pounding and spinning from the sweltering heat, too painful to even look up at the sun that was, quite literally, laughing at you.

But, you knew you couldn't give up right now. Not when the school of your dreams was just at the top, waiting for you. Your index finger hooked itself under your collar as you got up again and started making your way up again. "Ah damn it. Why the hell is the sun laughing?!" you yelled, voice hoarse from the drought in your throat. Step by step and complaint after complaint.

It took you a while—a long long loooooong while—but after a few more collapses and some prayers to Lord Shinra, you finally arrived. Wiping the sweat off of your face, you looked up and marveled at the grandeur of the building in front of you.

Death Weapon Meister Academy. DWMA for short.

The place where weapons and meisters from all-over the globe gather. A well-known institution dedicating itself to preventing the formation of another kishin through training students in combat and teaching to control their abilities as weapons. Entrusted and funded by countries all-over the globe, that's how much of a bigshot this place was.

Everyone on the goddamn planet knew about it. The school that the world's hero headed and where the world's heroes were formed. Anyone in their right mind dreamed of attending school here. Heck, this was your life long dream since you were a little kid. Luckily for you, you were born in a family with a lineage of meisters so admission was an easy process.

Thank you, dear ancestors. I hope all of you are resting well.

With a bated breath, you took a step forward, the wind cooling your body down as you looked around. This place was absolutely beautiful. Even more than what you had imagined or seen in pictures. The strong breeze blew against you, making the vastness of the place felt. Turning around, you gasp at the beautiful view of Death City.

'Guess this'll be my new home,' you thought with a small smile, taking in the scenery. The houses looked like little dollhouses from above, so cute and quaint. Despite being surrounded by the desert, the city did not look even the slightest amount of dead. In fact, it looked quite busy with all the people out on the streets.

You sighed dreamily, thinking about the life you'll be living from now own. All the lessons you'll learn, the friends you'll meet, what the dorms looked like, how the food tastes. You'd probably face a lot problems too.

But, first things first, you have to find a weapon.

That shouldn't be a problem, right? I mean, look around. Students were walking and mingling all around you and some of them were alone. There's probably lots of weapons that were in the same situation as you. Maybe you could ask them?

Stepping inside the building, you fully expected someone, maybe a student or a faculty member assisting the newcomers. But what you saw was the last thing you could have thought of. The moment you came in, by a table where some brochures were placed, you immediately found...a zombie?

You looked up at him, eyes wide open and shaken by his existence. The zombie stared—was he even staring? You couldn't even tell—back at you, a slightly serious but overall neutral expression on his purple face. 'Welcome Freshmen!' the sign above the door near him said. This was definitely a unique welcome. You opened your mouth to say something but couldn't find the words.

...

"Weapon or meister?"

HOLY SHIT IT TALKS.

Your body jolted at the sound of his voice before looking behind you to check if he was talking to you. You nodded before opening your mouth to reply, a string of stuttered incoherent words could be heard before you finally replied. "M-Meister," you replied nervously.

The figure nodded and handed you a brochure and a nameplate with the word 'meister' on it. "You can find a partner inside. If you don't, there's a dorm warming party in the evening." His blank eyes stared at you for a moment longer before he spoke again, "I'm Sid. A faculty member. Welcome to DWMA."

Attaching the tag on your shirt, you nodded at him with a slight smile. Seems like he was a good guy after all. "Thank you sir," you said, heading inside the room.

Inside, lots of students have gathered already. Some were just chatting amongst themselves and some where trying to convince others to be their partner. There were some who were arguing over who another person would choose. However, there were those who just sat somewhere, waiting for someone to approach them.

Similar to them, you sat down on a random chair, looking around at who could be your potential partner. You knew you couldn't choose just willy-nilly. The wavelength of your souls had to match and so does your personality. No one wants a partner that they couldn't get along with after all.

After a few more students entered, Sid closed the door before clearing his throat to gather everyone's attention. "I guess this should be everyone," he said, looking around and nodding. "I'll reintroduce myself. I'm Sid, a faculty member here in DWMA. All of you are gathered here to find your partner."

At the mention of 'partner', your heart began beating faster from excitement. The thought of finally finding someone whose soul matches yours, to go on adventures with and defeat bad guys with, thrilled you. "Once you're sure, head over to me to register. Registration ends a day before class starts."

With that, you pushed yourself up from your seat to begin interacting with others. Though it soon dawned on you that interacting wasn't the hard part nor was it finding someone who's personality was compatible with yours.

It was finding someone whose soul was on the same wavelength.

The first attempt you had tried was with a young woman who claimed to have lived in Nevada her whole life. Her weapon form was a baseball bat, and you would soon come to know that weapons that were incompatible with their meisters were immovable. Literally.

Upon transforming in your hands, an indescribably heavy weight suddenly pulled you down to the floor. With determination, you placed your hands on the handles and tried your best to lift her up to no avail. Both of you apologized to each other before going off to look for another person to try connecting with. In short, your souls didn't match. Incompatible.

You tried again, now with a morning star. Again. Incompatible.

Again. A 9mm pistol? Incompatible.

A butterfly knife? Incompatible.

A sabre? Incompatible.

A gauntlet? Incompatible.

A karambit? Incompatible.

A rapier? Incompatible.

Incompatible. Incompatible. Incompatible.

A sense of defeat washed over you as most people in the room soon found a partner, some even a trio. The event finally ended with you being one of the only people who wasn't able to find a partner. Your stomach twisted with disappointment though Sid tried to reassure you.

After receiving your monthly allowance, you headed to the dorms to finally get your room assignment. You knew it was childish to feel so down especially when the deadline for the registration was still a few days away, but you couldn't help yourself.

'What if I don't find one?' you thought to yourself, frowning as you watched your senior introduce the dorms to everyone. Worry was running through you, making it impossible for you to pay complete attention to what she was saying.

Going up the stairs, you were finally introduced to your room. Trying your best to cheer up, you thought maybe your roommate could be the weapon you were looking for. Or maybe you could be besties or something.

However, as soon as you reached your room, your senior suddenly stopped before you could enter. "Err...I know this is a bit difficult to understand, but as of the moment, you don't have a roommate yet," your senior, who you found out was named Tsugumi, said with a sheepish smile. "B-But don't worry! They said they already had someone in mind. Your roommate just..umm...didn't appear today."

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. What do you mean you don't have a roommate yet? Was this some sort of joke? You haven't even made a friend yet nor have you found a weapon, and now your roommate was missing.

"Are you okay?" she asked, looking a bit nervous from your reaction. You tried your best to give her a smile, but the curve of your lips just wouldn't cooperate as easy as it usually did. "Yeah. I'm okay! Just a bit worried," you replied.

Tsugumi doesn't seem to be convinced but decided to let you be anyway. "I'm sure she's fine. I heard she was penalized for dueling with another student without faculty supervision. She'll probably be here by tomorrow. For the meantime, why don't you settle in?" she tried to reassure you, to which you nodded with a small smile of your own. "I will. Thank you."

After she left, you opened the door to your room before stepping in. Closing the door behind you, you sighed and made your way to the bed. The bed squeaked slightly under your weight, echoing throughout the room. A sigh leaving your lips as you looked around.

"The dorm warming party. If I don't find a partner or a roommate there, I'm speaking to the faculty," you whispered to yourself with a push of exhausted determination. You stood up again and gave yourself a little puff of air. For the meantime, you fixed your side of the room. At least you could pick which bed was more comfy.

---

Evening soon came by and most students in your dorm had gathered to celebrate the dorm warming party, though it was obviously turned into some weapon-meister finding event again, you didn't mind. You were just as desperate as the other students.

As everyone interacted with one another, you once again tried your best to find a weapon whose soul matched with yours.

You met a man, a karambit, who hailed from the same country as you so you got along quite well immediately. Having someone to talk to about familiar experiences especially in terms of culture and tradition comforted you despite your situation. Maybe the similarities you had could tie your soul's frequencies together?

After a few more chats, the two of you decided to try and see if your souls matched. However, upon his transformation, the familiar physical and emotional weight of rejection pulled you down. You, once again, couldn't lift him up. Incompatible.

Oh death, what was going on? Why can't you find someone to be your partner?

Apologizing to the man, you mingled with the other students, determination wavering but not depleted. No, you weren't going to let the night end without a weapon.

A flail? Incompatible.

A scythe? Incompatible.

A tanto? Incompatible.

A machete? Incompatible.

An M16? Incompatible.

A musket? Incompatible.

A double-crossguard long sword?

You didn't even know those existed but still...Incompatible.

Incompatible. Incompatible. Incompatible.

A deep disappointed sigh left your lips as you stepped out of the dorm to get some air. This was unbelievable. You've been trying all day! At this point, you were starting to doubt if you were ever going to find a partner.

Dear ancestors, I'm sorry if I disappoint you.

Groaning, you made your way to the city. Maybe a bit of exploration would cheer you up. Step by step, you made your way down the stairs to the streets of Death City. The streets were a lot more quiet than it was earlier. Only a few shops were still open and it looked like they were getting ready to close too.

It didn't really matter to you though. You were just here to take a walk anyway.

As the night deepened, the streets soon grew dimmer and dimmer. Soon enough, you found yourself lost within the city's labyrinth-like streets. An eerie aura soon covered the dark streets, as if you were going to get kidnapped any mome—Hey no! Don't think like that! You're fine, you're fine! Perfectly fine haha.

Nervously, you hummed a small shaky tune to distract you from the spooky atmosphere, turning around to try and make your way back to the dorms. Suddenly, the wind blew incredibly cold, goosebumps ran down your skin. A feeling that someone was watching you suddenly loomed over you, making your stomach flip.

"N-No that can't be haha," you told yourself, rubbing your arms to try and get rid of the shakes in your system. "The city is safe. The city is safe. It's just my imagination. I'm just really upset and I'm imagi—"

crash!

"—ning..things.."

Your blood suddenly ran cold at the sudden loud sound, heartbeat echoing loudly in your ears. That was definitely not your imagination. That sounded very real and that sounded like it happened right fucking behind you.

Hesitantly, you turned around slowly to take a look, hoping it was just a cat or something. But upon looking, the only thing you saw were sharp blue orbs staring at you. Glaring at you.

Oh shit.

Immediately, you sprinted forward, hoping to find someone or something that could help you. Your lungs burned from the lack of oxygen and your legs ached as you continued to push yourself beyond the limits of your corporeal body.

This was absolutely the worst day of your life.

First, you couldn't find a weapon whose soul matched yours. Second, your roommate, who you had hoped to be friends with, didn't appear. And now, you were being chased by someone or something that you couldn't even see from how dark it was. Worse of all, you couldn't fight because you didn't have a FUCKING WEAPON!

You could hear the mysterious figure's footsteps following close behind you, chasing you down tirelessly through the dirty and smelly streets. Your knees trembled from fatigue, heartbeat echoing louder than your footsteps. But the person chasing you sounded so close, you couldn't stop now.

Suddenly, the footsteps disappeared, the sound no longer following you as you ran. A part of your brain sighed in relief at it's disappearance, but the other part felt more paranoid from its absence. The logical side of you knew that it didn't disappear. There was no way it would after chasing you for so long.

Your suspicions were confirmed as a new sound could be heard behind you from a distance. Footsteps significantly heavier than those chasing you before. Looking back as you ran, your eyes widened in fear as you saw red eyes staring at you hungrily from a distance. A big burly bald man, reaching past 6 feet, carrying a mace heading your way. To make things worse, as you ran forward, you were immediately stopped as the streets cut off into a dead end, leaving you with nowhere to go.

Turning around, you looked at the person chasing. Without a doubt, this man's soul was definitely a kishin egg. But fuck, you can't do shit. Not without a weapon.

A shaky breath left your lips as you looked up at the sky, slowly accepting that this was where you were going to die. A weaponless meister whose journey in DWMA barely began. Your eyes glazed with tears, both of frustration and fear, looking up at the moon that was...grinning?

"Oh why the hell are you smiling?" you muttered, glaring at it. Hearing the man's footsteps close to you, you turned to look at him fearfully. The man didn't smile, nor did he talk, his arms merely lifted his mace up as he approached your defeated figure.

Man...at least this dude had a weapon, you thought. Ears ringing, you closed your eyes and waited for your impeding death.

...

Why is it not hurting yet?

...

Any moment now?

"Are you going to keep standing there?" a strained voice asked. Immediately, you opened your eyes to see a tall figure, hair in a bun, blocking the mace with what seemed to be a katana. You opened your mouth to speak but before you could, the figure had already turned to look down at you with a glare.

A soft gasp leaving your lips as you saw his eyes.

Blue. Like the ones from earlier.

The hypnotizing shade shaking you to the core, but at the same time hypnotizing your soul.

Realizing that you were frozen in place, your savior let out a loud "tsk" before looking back up at the kishin egg. As the enemy lifted his mace to swing it down, Mizu parried it with great force, a loud metallic crack resonating in the air as small bits of the sword flew. Upon seeing this opening, his hands grabbed your wrist, slipping away from the enemy and dragging you along the streets.

Static went through your mind as the two of you ran. Your eyes never leaving the mysterious new person's figure. It seems that there weapon from earlier wasn't a demon weapon as you expected, so you still didn't know if he was a meister, a weapon, or a regular person. You didn't even know if he was actually a good person.

Your savior wore what seemed to be a haori, tied close with an obi at his waist. His body seemed to be lean and his grip on your wrist was firm, but not enough to hurt you. A gasp left your lips as he suddenly pulled you into a corner, holding your body close to his. His heartbeat was so loud, you could feel it against your back.

"What are you—mmph!" He immediately covered your mouth with his hand, peeking around the corner to take a look at the enemy before immediately pulling back. Pulling you closer, a shiver went down your spine as you felt him lean down close to your ear, breath tickling your skin. "I'll distract him, you run. Got it?"

Breathing deeply, you tried your best to think, but the upcoming footsteps was making your anxiety rise, fogging your mind. With no other choice, you nodded. Taking your signal, your savior released the hand covering your mouth, putting the broken blade down on the ground.

Your eyes widened as you watched his hand transform into what seemed like a blade. Blue like his eyes with wave-like patterns, sharp edge telling you that this person was definitely already used to transforming.

The moment both of you felt the enemy's footsteps stop near your hiding spot, his untransformed hand immediately pushed you away before jumping in front of the enemy. Without another thought, you ran away, feet picking up the pace immediately.

A small part of your heart ached, feeling guilty for leaving the man behind after he had helped you. You felt horrible. Like something was wrong and you should go back to help him. The uncomfortable feeling running so deep you could feel it in your...soul?

You couldn't take it anymore. Before you could go on any further, your feet slowed down until they halted. The moment you did, you heard a loud crash by the street where you had come from, and that was all it took for you to run back.

On the ground, your savior laid, trying to pick himself up, but it was clear to you that he was hurt and exhausted. Your eyes darted for anything that could help you until they landed on the broken blade from earlier. Hurriedly, you picked it up, rushing parry the upcoming attack.

Anticipating the pain of the impact, your savior gritted her teeth and clenched her jaw. But to her surprise, the sound of metal crashing against metal could be heard before metal shards flew in the air as you parried the attack with all your strength.

Her eyes widened in shock, hands immediately pushing herself up before his sharp blue eyes glared at you with such ferocity. But before he could tell you to run away once again, you threw the sword away and gripped his hand, preparing to pull him away.

The moment she felt your hand in hers, Mizu didn't know why, but her mind went blank.

The rage inside her quelled and her heart began beating faster. She was so used to fighting alone, to using her abilities as a weapon for herself, to closing herself off. But right now, it felt like she wanted to transform for you.

It felt safe. Like your souls were connected.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Mizu had transformed into a weapon in your hand. A small gasp leaving your lips as you felt her form shift into something different and her weight become lighter. You turned your head to look at her, eyes widening as you gasped.

In your hand was a katana. A beautiful one at that. The blade itself was a distinct shade of blue which reminded you of the sky before sunrise. A wave-like pattern adorned the hamon in an almost artistic sense. Despite the beauty of the blade, the cutting edge itself was extremely sharp. Almost scarily sharp.

The handle felt different to the usual Japanese swords you have seen around the school, having no cords wrapped around it. However, it appeared to be a slight cream-ish white with patterns on it, reminding you of handles made of ray skin. Around the handle, you couldn't help but smile ever so slightly at the menuki wrapped around it. It was...cute. Not something you'd expect from someone so intimidating.

"Keep your eyes on the enemy!" you heard his voice say, snapping you out of your trance. Immediately, you looked up before dodging another attack just in time. Your body shook with fear and the adrenaline rushing through it. You couldn't even feel your face with how scared you were. Before both of you could comprehend it, you were already running.

Fuck. You could feel your soul shaking.

Unbeknownst to you, Mizu could feel the fear running through you too. She could feel how erratic your wavelength was becoming as she watched you flee the scene with her in your hand. But it was no use, the enemy was close behind both of you, hot on your trail.

Your feet continued to run as fast as you could until you found a small corner to hide in. Panting softly, you looked at the blade in your hands, biting your lip in shame. "I'm sorry," you whispered to him, curling up into a ball. "I...I'm scared."

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you. A part of her wanted to tell you off for being such a coward, but another part believed in you even if she didn't know why. Mizu sighed, looking down at her own feet, before looking off into the darkness. "I understand," he mumbled, making you look up.

He groaned to himself, unable to comprehend how compelled he felt to open up to you. Maybe she just didn't want to admit it, but deep inside her, she was scared too. "I...my soul is impure. Made by a kishin egg's and a good soul," he started, the sudden revelation making your eyes go wide.

"Not many meisters wanted to pair with a weapon whose soul was mixed with a sinners, and those who did...were incompatible." He looked up at you, before giving you a small smile. "That was until you," he chuckled, voice resembling a sigh. "It's fine if you're scared. We're both new to this after all."

You gulped thickly, looking at Mizu guiltily. His story tugging at your heart strings but at the same time calming you. No, you weren't going to let both of you die like this. You're not going to disappoint your savior who trusted you enough to let you hold him for the first time.

Gathering as much courage as you could, you shakily stood up, hand gripping the handle tighter. Her eyes widened as she watched your eyebrows knit together and your slightly swollen lips part as you took a deep breath. Her smile turned into something more genuine, more proud of you. "Look sharp, okay?" Pulse pounding loudly, you made your way out of your hiding spot, scanning the area until you made eye contact with the kishin egg.

The coward in you wanted to run, seeking the comfort of safety. But, you were a DWMA student weren't you? This was finally your chance to prove it.

The ground trembled as the enemy ran towards you, you swinging his mace aiming for your head. Dodging swiftly, you took the opportunity to stab the enemy's foot, making him keel and bend over in pain. With the new opening, you cut his hamstrings to render him unable to stand. All slashes done with ease, amazing you with how great of a weapon your savior was.

In attempt to save himself, the enemy prepared himself and parried your incoming attacks. But it was no use, with how light the katana in your hand was, you easily overwhelmed him, slashing his arm off before finally cutting his head off.

A loud thud could be heard as his body fell to the ground, head rolling to your feet, making you shudder. You watched as the enemy's remains turned to ashes, revealing a soul. A red soul. A kishin egg, as they called it.

You gasped as your savior suddenly pulled half his body out of the blade's sword and reached for the soul floating in front of you. His blue eyes narrowed at it, inspecting it before putting it into his mouth. Your eyes followed the outline of his throat as the red orb traveled down in what you could describe as an oddly smooth but very ever-so-slightly attractive manner.

But wait...

...

I think we forgot an important detail here.

"What the fuck?!" you yelled in surprise, making the man jolt back into the sword before glaring at you. You stared at him, then to the wave pattern on the flat of the blade, then to him, then to the cutting edge, then back at him.

Mizu looked visibly confused as you lifted him up and continued to stare with awe and wonder, wondering why you were acting so weird. "I'm holding...a weapon," you breathed out, grin tugging up your lips. "I'm actually holding one. I'm holding you."

You couldn't believe it. In your hands was a weapon.

An actual fucking weapon. One that didn't slam against the ground when you tried to carry it. One whose soul matched with yours.

Finally.

A katana? Compatible.

He looked at you, raising an eyebrow. Admittedly, the situation made her feel weird, but the look of amazement in your eyes told her that although she wouldn't like to admit it, your soul actually felt at peace with hers just as hers was with yours.

As if the two of you were sharing a moment more intimate than it seemed.

Taking a step back, you watched as Mizu went back to his human form. You've watched students transform before, but seeing Mizu transform made your heart soar with joy. After all, you were watching your partner transform. Your weapon They were your weapon.

Yours.

His eyes stared down at you as you continued to look up at him in amazement. Eyes tracing his features, taking in every detail, the way his mouth moved as he spoke. The sound of him clearing his throat snapped you out of your trance and to look at his expectant expression. "Mizu."

"P-Pardon?" you stuttered out sheepishly, pinching your arm lightly to make sure you weren't dreaming. "It's my name. You'll need it," he said with a nonchalant tone, turning to head back to the academy. Letting out a series of incoherent stutters, you walked right behind him. "I'll need it...?" you repeated, a smile of confusion and excitement tugging at your lips.

"Don't look so confused. You're my meister now, aren't you?"

[stargazedwinchester]

Can I have a thing written for a fluffy reader x Dean who has the same music taste as Dean and them bonding over it? I hope that made sense

ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `november rain, dean winchester

Summary: You spend a rainy evening with Dean listening to his favourite bands. Word Count: 654 Thank you for requesting! I had a lot of fun writing this <3 Inspired by November Rain - Guns N' Roses

It’s a quiet evening in the bunker. You’re exhausted after a long day of researching, multiple phone calls and lots of dead ends. Days like this feel like you’re getting nowhere. Even after searching through countless books, it’s clearly a bad day even when Sam gives up for the night.

You rummage through the cupboards in the kitchen, picking out specific snacks to bring back to your bedroom. Your headphones reverberate classic rock, feeling the vibrations against your neck. You move over to the fridge and pick up an energy drink that Dean picked out for you at the gas station this morning.

You travel from the kitchen toward your bedroom, noticing Dean’s bedroom door is ajar. You turn the volume down on your headphones to listen in on what music he’s playing this time. Obviously, it’s some classic rock. You nosy in and see he has multiple cassette tapes splayed out over his messy duvet cover. He lays on top of his bed, staring up at the ceiling, focusing on the music. He’s so deep in his own little world, he doesn’t notice you walk into his room.

“Guns N’ Roses, huh?” You chuckle, and he flinches ever so slightly. “Damn, Y/N, you scared me.” He laughs, clutching his chest. “Yeah. November Rain. You heard of it?” He asks you, hunching over the side of his bed. He has a record player that’s currently spinning Use Your Illusion album, the limited edition yellow circles round, the needle has a cent taped to the top of it. “Of course I have,” you shut his bedroom door behind you. “Use Your Illusion, 1991. Nine whole minutes of pure sex.” You joke, and Dean laughs wholeheartedly. “Exactly. The songs too good.”

You scoot over next to dean, turning off your headphones and laying them on his bed. As soon as the previous track ended, November Rain fades in, the iconic piano thumps from the speakers. You pick up Dean’s cassette tapes, flicking through them as the song begins.

“When I look into your eyes,

I can see a love restrained,

But when I look into your eyes,

Don’t you know I feel the same?”

Dean silently sings along to the beginning of the song, you get up and go through his vinyl collection.

“Nothin’ lasts forever,

And we both know hearts can change,

And it’s hard to hold a candle,

In the cold November Rain.”

The song carries on as you flick through each album, picking up and examining each one. “You have a really sick music taste, Winchester.” You compliment him, and he looks up at you, smirking slightly. “Only the best.” He replies, noticing you’re holding a Metallica album. He stands up.

“Now that one,” he starts, chuckling to himself. “This was the first album I heard from Metallica. I must’ve been 12 at the time.” Dean reminisces beside you. You envision a younger version of Dean, finding his favourite genre of music. The idea itself warms your heart, knowing what he’s been through and how music has helped him immensely.

When November Rain finishes, you gently place the needle back in its place, removing the vinyl from the player and placing it back in its sleeve. You find the cassette player on one of the shelves, you take it and place it on the bed, opening up the player and placing the Metallica cassette inside. It takes a few seconds to unravel itself, then winds back up before playing the beginning of the album.

Enter Sandman begins playing.

You’re both sat on his bed, jamming out to his favourite artists, singing along together. Unknowingly strengthening that bond you didn’t know you had. Dean’s voice is rough, but suits the grain of the James Hetfield’s tone.

“Say your prayers, little one,

Don’t forget, my son,

To include everyone.

I tuck you in, warm within,

Keep you free from sin,

‘Til the sandman, he comes.”

[girl-lostconnection]

Some fluffy headcanons maybe if you write those about graves and how he gets intimate with a person? First kiss/first physical intimacy headcanons maybe? (especially if he gets the reader flustered and shy)

If you write them ofc 🥲

Of course I do, anon😌no worries. I write just about everything (including some really disturbing things but I’m gonna leave them for another day/ask)

Firsts (18+ MDNI)

Phillip Graves x gn!reader

Warnings: fluff, suggestive themes, slight dirty talk

• Graves kisses are sweetest thing, his palms warm and careful on your cheeks when he cradles your face, angling it so he can kiss you better. Phillip doesn’t rush them, savouring each and every one of them. But firsts are always special.

His first kiss with you is slow and soft, his fingers sliding over the nape of your neck, pulling you in, eyes fixed on yours.

He is careful, acting like he has all the time in the world, like heat is not spreading under his skin, dripping into his belly in thick blobs. Acting like it’s another kiss for him, he had plenty in his life after all.

But there’s something in your eyes and maybe he’s a damn fool for looking so hard into it. Maybe it really is just another kiss, but your lashes flutter and your face is red and he wants to kiss this blush away, wants to press his lips to your hot skin, wants to speak his thoughts in existence.

But he doesn’t. Not when he has you so close, breath ghosting over your lips, his own curling upwards.

“Just me, darlin’. I got you.”

His eyes are unusually soft, half-lidded and attentive — pupils stretching wider and wider.

He kisses you softly, almost unexpectedly so, his lips pressing into yours for one long warm, practically innocent moment. Maybe the significance of “firsts” does get to him, sentiment be damned.

But then you breath out in his lips and suddenly he can’t think properly, lips moving against yours, fingers curling — holding onto the back of your neck as his lids fall close. More.

He catches your bottom lip, tugs on it, suddenly impatient, suddenly hungry because god, how sweet you are — trusting and warm in his hands, lashes fluttering.

Prettiest damn thing he ever laid eyes on.

Phillip kisses you again and again and again, until the first kiss turns into second and third and forth. He pulls away just to look at you, eyes half-lidded and a little drunk on the feel, his other hand wrapped around your waist.

“Looking good enough to eat, aren’t you?”

• Your first time is even sweeter because Phillip takes his time, enjoying it so damn much. Unwrapping you from all your clothes, pulling them off and kissing-kissing-kissing.

Leaving hickeys in his wake, stroking your thighs, your back, your hips, murmuring praises in your ears.

“So pretty for me, could devour you whole and you’d let me, wouldn’t you, sugar? You’d be so good for me”

Phillip nestles between your legs and he is not moving anywhere until he’s sure your legs are trembling, your mind hazy with pleasure and he can hear his name falling from your lips like the sweetest little prayer.

Phil-Phil-Phil. Just like that, sugar. So perfect for him, singing for him so sweetly. Bet you didn’t know you can make sounds like that, did ya?

No worries, darling, he will show you how it’s done. He will hold your hand through the process, his other hand a little busy — fingers curling inside of you, rubbing from inside, getting himself a little treat.

“Took such a good care of you, angel, I’m just gonna treat myself to- yeah, just like that, feel me, darlin’? You are so soft, fuck- so tight for me, just relax. I’m gonna make you feel good. ‘m gonna take care of you, yes- Good job”

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

can you write something w vessel praising reader like super lovey sex 🥺

❝sweet little bunny❞

➵ “you’re doing so good for me” —❤︎

pairing: vessel x gn!reader

theme: smut ❣︎

a/n: ofc i can ♡︎ the vessel stans have really flocked to my page now huh? hope you enjoy !!

cw: penetration. pet names. praise kink. no gendered language for reader’s body.

┅✦┅

oh my god, fluffy sex with vessel??? yes please holy shit??

this man is intimidating as fuck, but goddamn can he be an absolute sweetheart in the sheets

whenever he’s in the mood for something more vanilla, he’s a lot more quiet

short breaths and gasps, letting out long, deep sighs when he cums, whispering your name like a sacred prayer whenever he’s close to climaxing

goddamn this man sounds heavenly when he’s making you feel good

vessel’s voice is also a lot more soothing, with a twinge of poetic flair to his words whenever he’s praising you

always being so gentle with you <33 we love to see it

he always puts your pleasure first too. drilling his cock into you in such a sensual manner that has you seeing stars

and you can still feel the intimacy and affection from him, it’s such a surreal experience

“that’s it, baby. you’re taking me so well…”

you could only softly whine as you felt vessel’s hard shaft move deep inside of you. his movements were slow and sensual, but his rhythm had you on edge, and writhing underneath his grasp, begging for more.

“there… i got you.. fuck you look so good like this, taking my cock like the good little bunny you are.” he hissed out in pure euphoria, his hips pistoning inside of your hole in a way that had you seeing stars.

your wrists were being held tightly to the mattress by vessel, and you could only squirm in a lustrous need as he moved inside you. “vess… vess please..”

“shhh, it’s okay… i’m right here..” vessel whispered in a reassuring manner, dipping his head between the space in your neck to affectionately nip at your soft skin, leaving love marks as he trailed down.

his hands moved from your wrists to your hands, his fingers interlocking with yours, squeezing your hands with a loving grasp.

that simple action was enough to make you whimper in pure ecstasy, it was almost enough to distract you from how his dick was buried deep within your love canal.

vessel lived for this kind of pleasure.

this was the kind of love he loved to give to you.

he wouldn’t be this affectionate and attentive to anyone else but you. if it were anyone else, he couldn’t give less of a damn… but you… oh you were just a different story.

your presence was just so captivating, entrancing vessel in a dreamlike state every time he made love to you. you were his drug, so sweet and addicting.

and he was going to show that to you no matter what.

“shit, baby. you’re so tight around me… fuck.. i love it so much..” he moaned softly into your neck, his hips moving slightly faster. “i love you so much.”

his sweet words had you moaning like crazy. you couldn’t help it, the way he spoke to you like you were some kind of ancient deity was enough to get your legs shaking.

“f-fuck… vessel.. please..”

“please what, honey? tell me… tell me what you want.”

looking through the slits of vessel’s artistic mask, you could see nothing but pure love and lust clouding his eyes, and that just made the arousal in your core grow stronger.

“please.. harder..” you begged breathlessly, voice barely above a whisper.

vessel cursed silently at your words, and his hips rolled into you slowly, hitting a spot that had your legs spasming.

he smiled softly, and bent down to capture your lips in a loving kiss, before whispering. “of course, darling.”

and he moved even faster.

[mncxbe]

I believe Ur requests are open rn, so can I request bad men (pls include jouno I'm so down bad for him rn 😭) taking Ur V card? How would they act, etc yk?

Anyhow, Ur writing is beautiful and I wish you a good day/night 🤍

tysm anon^^ you're really sweet and yes ofc I can write for that. hope you like it♡♡

also the way I resisted including my fav dilfs I cannot. internal battle fr

°☆○

First time♡

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂, 𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒐, 𝑻𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut♡/ itty bitty fluff

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊

bro does not go easy on you just because it's your first time

he will be gentle at first until you get used to his size and all but after that he'll edge and overstimulate you until you're a babbling mess under him♡

wants to be on top so he can see your pretty face

doesn't really care about the whole making the first time special. every time should be equally special^^ so don't expect anything too fancy

for aftercare you cuddle

"Shit baby. Look at you taking me so well" he praised, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on your tear stained cheeks.

It's only been half an hour since the two of you got in bed but your boyfriend had you cumming countless times already. Legs wrapped loosely around his waist, your glossy eyes rolled back in your skull as you pleaded him to stop.

But how could he stop when you were chanting his name like a prayer with each of his thrusts?

A heartfelt chuckle rolled past his lips as his thumb pressed on your aching clit, rubbing gentle circles on it.

"What was that bella? Want me to stop? Can't have that until you cum one more time. You can do it f'me yea?" he cooed, smiling down at you.

You only nodded in response, too fucked out to form a coherent thought. And so your sweet boyfriend kept rolling his hips against yours, reaching your sweetest spots until your high washed over you again; leaving you panting softly.

When he eventually pulled out, Dazai rolled to the side and slid his arms around you, pulling you flush against his frame. The sheets were damped by your sweat, cold against your skin.

"Was it good bella? Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck.

You sighed deeply, feeling your breath slowly return to its normal rhythm.

"If I liked it? God damn you Osamu it was amazing" you smiled, kissing his damp forehead. "I love you"

"I love you too baby" he whispered softly, smiling contently. Not long after you both fell asleep, relishing each other's embrace.

𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂

he's so gentle and caring

puts his whole chuyussy into it; there will be scented candles, silky sheets and he probably buys you a fancy lingerie set

takes his time with you with foreplay and when you actually do it he's so tender. holds your hand. constantly asks if you're ok

he does not stop until you cum at least twice

"Good girl. You're taking me so well baby"

for aftercare you either take a warm bath together or share a glass of wine while you debrief the sex; what you like and dislike and what he should do different next time

overall an amazing experience

The sweet, syrupy scent of the candles placed on the nightstand lulled you into a blissed out state. Your gaze was hazy as you took in the imagine of your boyfriend underneath you, ruby coloured locks standing out against the pearly white sheets.

Chuya's thumb gently caressed yours as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

"You feeling good princess?" he hummed, watercolour gaze carefully observing your expressions.

You rolled your hips against his at a steady pace, meeting his thrusts; and nodded, a sultry smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

At first your boyfriend wasn't too keen on letting you be on top. After all, it was your special night. Why would you have to work for it? But after coaxing two orgasms out of you he finally agreed and helped you straddle him before burying his cock deep inside you again.

As for now you were chasing your high again, manicured nails softly grazing the skin of his chest as you let your head fall back and mewled so sweetly for him.

"Chuu..." you began, struggling to keep your pace but failing miserably. Chuya's free hand came to rest on your hip, guiding your movements.

"That's it baby you can do it. Just a bit more ok?" he groaned and squeezed your hip.

After you both came and you stumbled off him, laying on the damp sheets beneath, Chuya let out a mellow laughter.

"You did so good baby. Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yea, I did. And you?"

"Obviously" His fingers brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face; he couldn't help but smile when he saw the content expression on your face, a mask of pure bliss.

"How about we take a bath sweetheart? Sounds good?"

You only nodded in response, eyes shutting tight as you shifted closer to him. Your boyfriend rested his hand on your head, gently caressing your hair.

"Okay then. I'll go get the tub ready"

𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒐

just like Dazai he likes to overtsimulate you but he's a bit more gentle

the fact that he picks up on your reactions- hitched breaths and heartbeat- helps him adjust his pace

the perfect mix of praise and degradation sjsjjs

loves to hear you moan

any position is good for him. as long as you feel comfortable

for aftercare you just cuddle♡

Jouno could feel your heartbeat spike as he pushed himself deeper inside you. You were so sweet and warm; he was utterly entranced.

"Ah fuck Sai" you mewled, causing your boyfriend to shudder lightly, his strong arms threatening to give out. You made him so weak.

You've both been at it for a good while but Jouno showed no sign of stopping. And how could he when your walls were wrapping around him like a vise, milking him of all he's worth? The pretty pleas and mewls that rolled past your lips were like music for his ears, a sweet symphony just for him, that only added to the cocktail of pleasure.

But of course he couldn't let you see the effect you had on him, so he picked up the pace, causing your eyelids to flutter shut.

"What a pretty doll I have. I could swear this ain't your first time judging by how well you take this dick" he chuckled, relishing the feeling of your velvety walls fluttering around him. "Shit baby. You gonna cum again? You like it when I talk to you like that don't ya?"

"Y-yea" you babbled out, fingers sliding to the nape of his neck as you pulled him in for a sloppy kiss.

A small groan left Jouno's throat as you both reached your high, the tight knot in your abdomen snapping into a delicious pool of heat.

Your boyfriend gently rested his forehead against yours, mumbling sweet praises until you both regained your breaths.

After a few seconds he tried to roll to the side but you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him back on top of you.

"Just stay like this for a bit. It feels nice" you hummed sleepily against his shoulder, earning a soft sigh from your partner.

"As you wish baby" he smiled, his lithe fingers finding your, loosely interlocking with them.

𝑻𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂

another gentle boy; when I tell you he's more nervous than you

Tachi really wants to make your first time special so he asks you 1000 times if you're sure you wanna do it

takes his time with foreplay and when you get to do it he takes it slow. maybe a bit too slow. he just doesn't wanna hurt you

but as soon as you tell him you're good he'll pick up the pace

please for the love of God praise him

he whimpers (sources: trust me bro)

for aftercare he brews you a cup of tea and you talk about how you felt

"But you sure you felt good right? Right??"

"You sure you're ready sweet thing?" asked your boyfriend with a concerned expression.

"Yea. I am, don't worry about it. I just need you so badly" you whispered in response and he nodded, slowly pushing himself inside you.

And oh you felt divine. Tachihara couldn't contain the loud groan that fell from his lips when he bottomed out and slowly started moving, rocking his hips against yours in a steady rhythm.

"You ok there pretty?" he asked, taking in your features; you looked so beautiful sprawled beneath him like this, silky hair a tangled mess from all the foreplay.

You bit your lip and nodded in response as you urged him to pick up the pace; and naturally he did.

Soon after you were both panting, His eyes were shut tight, mouth slightly agape as he whispered sweet nothings against the shell of your ear.

"You're so good f'me sweetie. You feel like heaven." he said in a sultry voice between sweet moans and whimpers and you swore you could've came just by the sight of his blissed out expression. Your boyfriend's hands worshipped every inch of your heated skin, fingertips slowly tracing down your body to rub little circles on your puffy clit.

"Baby wait wait I'm-" you attempted to protest but were cut off by his gentle touch.

"Shh sweet thing it's ok. Need ya to cum f'me like a good girl"

The moment he spoke those words a wave of pleasure washed over you, causing your thighs to squeeze his narrow waist.

Nails digging into the plush skin of your hips Tachihara let out a groan, thrusting a few more times before releasing his cum deep inside you.

"God that was..." he sighed, eyelids fluttering shut for a moment as he took a deep breath in. When he opened them again and saw the mess the two of you made, his cum dripping down your thighs as you desperately squeezed them together he got out of the bed and rushed to the bathroom to bring you a towel.

"Here you go babe. Lemme clean you up" he smiled gently, brushing the puffy material against your sensitive skin. "Was it good?"

"Of course it was babe" you replied, returning his smile "But I could use some sleep now"

"As you wish"

He slid back underneath the covers, arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he nuzzled his head against the nape of your neck.

"You were amazing darling. I'm so happy I got to be your first" he hummed, sending warm tingles down your spine.

What did you ever do to deserve someone as sweet as him?

[somewhereincairparavel]

🐚 Daughter of Neptune headcanons list 🌊 Part Two..

note: dam this was superrr long aswell, I hope I didn't bore y'all lol, I really enjoyed writing this actually! Again, this is the continuation of my first fic, this mostly includes big brother percy! x reader, and yes there will be a part 3 aswell, that focuses more on reader x bf! Jason, gosh I was not expecting this to become an actual series LOL! This part is mostly Percy centric! Also, i wasn't expecting my first hc list to get that many notes?? Like 72 notes is a LOT for me especially if it's for something that I've never done before! So thank you!

•Jason's disappearance would drive you INSANE. I'm not even kidding, those 6 months would be the worst you've ever had. Almost as bad as Annabeth, and it's not just because your maybe-boyfriend disappeared. It's because your sleep was PLAGUED with nightmares about this mysterious lady who called herself the earth mother. She kept trying to recruit you to her side. Gaia was trying to make you join her. But you didn't even know that it was Gaia, at that point. 

• Since you were linked to the earthen side of Neptune, and Gaia wanted ALL forces of earth to join her against demigods, you were her main target, along with Percy and Jason. You'd be the easiest to manipulate amongst all big three children , since your powers reeked of earth.

•You anxiously told Reyna about these nightmares, but she waved off the suspicion as stress, with you being unnerved about Jason’s whereabouts or something.

•You also got dreams about a teenage boy with black hair, wandering around the streets of San Francisco helplessly, something about this boy felt super tranquil (yes it's Percy lol)

•And don't get me started about the senators' uproar about their praetor’s disappearance. Conspiracies swirled around the whole camp. 

•Octavian was NOT helping the matters, the guy was such a drama king. He cooked up this wild story that YOU were the reason Jason disappeared, taking advantage of the point that Jupiter and Neptune were rivals to give himself an upper hand in his argument. 

•He also latched on to the point that all of these atrocities were happening because YOU were a bad omen to camp, which unfortunately, convinced the whole senate. The whole camp now hates you more than ever. 

•And guess what happened? You weren't even a full centurion anymore. Ppl thought you would lead your cohort to conspire against everyone, so they forced poor Reyna to transfer the centurion-ship to Gwendolyn.

•Octavian also deliberately refused to look for Jason because he was happy to get rid of the son of Jupiter.

•Nico and Reyna were your only support systems at this point. Reyna elected you as the unofficial praetor (not that she told anyone else, of course, this was a secret between you both, she needed another praetor in place of jason, and she badly wanted it to be you, but the senators begged to differ) so you were secretly helping Reyna to help reinforcements to look for Jason.

• Nico would actually be such a big comfort to you. Bringing you coca cola from McDonald’s while you both just sat in silence in pluto's shrine wallowing in sadness lol

•Okay okay I'm yapping so much, so here comes the best part. The most anticipated one. Your brother Percy Jackson's arrival. 

•You actually weren't in camp when he dramatically came by, you were in Temple hill, trying to convince a thick headed octavian to burn his god damn bears and issue a prayer to Jupiter about Jason. That jerk was so stubborn. So you were practically yelling at each other.

•That's also EXACTLY when Percy and Hazel get sent to Octavian by Reyna. So while they were approaching you, you were just in shock and stopped mid way from the argument you and Octavian were currently having and stared at Percy. He was the same boy in your dreams.

• This strange boy had worn the same expression as he stared at you. Shock. Unbeknownst to you, Percy had been having dreams about your wispy face as well. 

• Hazel told Percy about you after he dramatically charged into camp as a child of Neptune. Percy would actually be SO excited when he finds out that he has a sister in this mysterious camp. 

• But TWO children of Neptune? At the same place? Same time? This all brought on such an uproar amongst campers

• Octavian had practically hardwired the whole “Neptune children are unlucky” thing into ppls mind so much that everyone was worried that Percy's arrival meant something bad was happening.

• When Percy met you though, he'd actually find you very closed off and rigid. But he cannot help being soft around you, since you were practically his younger sister.

• You'd deliberately avoided him a little. Because you were SO overwhelmed with everything. How did you dream about your nonexistent brother before you actually knew he existed? You actually had a hard time trusting him with everything going on, so you'd act a little cold around him for the first day. Even Reyna would notice your lack of enthusiasm when you welcomed Percy to your legion.

• But you failed to intimidate Percy. like miserably. You'd shoot him grumpy looks, only to find him smiling back at you. You felt kind of bad now. Since Percy looked like he badly wanted to talk to you.

• so. You planned a secret excursion. You were both in the same cohort, so you had no problem tapping Percy on the shoulder at lunch, and told him to meet you at your dad's shrine at around 12 AM.

• Percy was super confused at your sudden offer but he obliged anyway out of curiosity.

• so he'd be walking around the shrine like a lost puppy, admiring how new his dad's statue looked. Hazel had told him about your efforts to bring glory to Neptune, and how you'd never miss a day to clean his shrine, and percy'd admire that. Like a lot. He knew there's more to you than what people said about you in camp.

• "Good old dad huh?" You'd say as you came inside the shrine, startling Percy so bad that he'd trip on his own shoelace.

• That shit was hilarious as hell lol making you holler with laughter.

• He'd be super embarassed but would totally laugh along with you.

• Okay so the first few minutes would be painfully awkward. I mean, what do you say to your long lost sibling you never knew you had?

• But Percy would interrupt by telling you that he'd had dreams of you. Which shocked you to the core. Because you had them aswell, that piece of information would leave him shocked aswell.

• So after this info dump, the conversation after would flow so naturally?? Like where did all the awkwardness go? You'd both talk about everything, you'd tell Percy about Jason (though you kinda left out the boyfriend bit lolz) and he'd tell you about Annabeth.

• You'd walk Percy around the streets of New Rome, breaking curfew, like you always did, as you told him "well you deserved a proper sisterly tour of the city yesterday, I'm sorry I didn't give you that, I just had a lot on my mind, I DO want to get to know you more, you are my brother, after all".

• All of these words would leave Percy overwhelmed tbh. He'd been so scared that you wouldn't talk to him, and that you may not want have a sibling dynamic with him. But he was wrong. You were still a little awkward, but you were trying. And that made him feel a rush of brotherly affection for you. You were nothing like the scary/grumpy heartless girl you were perceived to be by the other campers.

• the whole excursion-with-your-brother-to-bond with-him thing actually worked. You had no idea what you were doing, but it worked. You got to know stuff about him, even though he barely remembered a thing, and as much as you hated to admit it, you sort of overshared with him. The bullying you faced at camp, how everyone called you names, scoffed at you, how Octavian was being. well. Octavian. Your dad not noticing you, So all in all, you shared basically everything with guy. And no, you still left out the boyfriend detail, he ain't gonna know about that lol

• It actually helped you get those things off of your chest. But at the same time, you had too much fun maintaing the grumpy mean girl persona, and now that you've given him your tragic villian backstory, you no longer had the "mystery" aura around you anymore, and you were sure Percy thought of you as a small marshmallow he needed to protect. You didn't need protecting.

• And you were SO right, Percy got super protective the next day, the change was SO visible, that even Reyna noticed and asked you about it.

• you kept the sibling excursion trip a secret though lol no way were you scrubbing the streets with toothbrushes again. You'd broken enough rules.

• So now, the curfew thing just became an inside joke between you guys lol

• Percy would SO introduce you to blue food. Tell me he wouldn't.

• Okay so after loads of protesting and senate Mayhem, you'd go on the quest to free thanatos, along with Percy, Hazel and Frank, where you also found out that you were a part of the prophecy. You'd discover that you and Percy's powers would work SO well together.

• You both would look like a power duo in all honesty, you'd cause the earth around you to tremble, while Percy made the waves accelerate. Frank and Hazel almost fainted omg

• Octavian was SO sure you were going to fail the quest.

• Jokes on him, his expression when you and Percy rode on Mrs O Leary, carrying the golden eagle together, screaming "Twelfth Legion! Fulminata!" was hilarious. He looked angry, shocked and murderous all at the same time.

• I kid you not, The amount of celebration you and Percy got after you came back was insane. You were both elected as praetor the same day. Yes, I know there can only be 2, but at that point, not even Octavian could deny the fact that you both deserved praetorship. (Sucks that it only lasted a few days before you guys ran off to the argo ii)

• Percy's arrival had helped you as a person, and helped restore glory to your father Neptune and the twelfth legion. All of a sudden, Neptune children, were regarded as lucky charms. You both would definitely go down in the Camp Jupiter history reports as the sibling duo who restored the golden eagle to Rome again, after many many years.

• okay now that the plot centric stuff with Percy is over, lemme just add a few extra stuff.

• you and Percy would have SUCH different auras, it was actually hilarious. You'd be dark and broody, Percy would be calm and serene (well, most of the time) which was GOOD. Bc if you both were mad, then I'll send the world some thoughts and prayers, mostly prayers. Since it would end in an avalanche mess.

• also, i forgot to mention, you broke your imperial gold sword in the quest, that left you shattered. Bc that sword held memories. But in return? You got something SO much better.

• Your good old father, Neptune, had appeared in the praetorship ceremony, (leaving Octavian terrified) and congratulated you and Percy for being "such a pride symbol" for him (Percy got SO mad, like oh. NOW you notice us pops?) but yeah, Neptune, told you that your efforts to restore glory to him was very much noticed ad appreciated, by him.

• Neptune had given you something else as a replacement for your sword. It was a pearl bracelet but when you tapped it twice, It turn into this unique aqua coloured metal, that would transform into any sort of weapon you wanted. But the catch, is that it could only be one weapon at a time. This was eerily similar to Jason's coin-sword and Percy's Riptide.

• Percy had sassed the hell out of Neptune on your behalf though lol I mean, the guy has every right to be angry, His sister was neglected for SO long?

• in a way, percy also felt super guilty bc now tha he got his memories back, he knew Poseidon would visit him a lot, but his Roman side never visited his other child up until this point? He felt like he had a privilege you didn't.

• Sally would totally love you. She'd coddle you as much as she does percy tbh.

Update: part three is just out!

https://www.tumblr.com/somewhereinhogsmeade/746677981633724416/daughter-of-neptune-headcanons-list-part?source=share

[tenderwatches]

summary: Viktor refuses to trust the people of Piltover—and that includes Jayce Talis. (someone hug that boy; he is doing his best!!)

Though Viktor sleeps well, perhaps better than he has in months, he’s still weary when he wakes. Golden light creeps into his new room, and reality sets in like a paradox in an otherwise mundane dream; the sensation is at once ordinary and disarming.

He is back in Piltover.

The council wants him working on Hextech again.

He’s argued with Jayce Talis.

Now, he’s making his way slowly around his former partner’s lab, taking everything in as if he’s on a tour. This lab is bigger than the one they’d previously shared (it has a second story with enclosed rooms and a loft, which Viktor finds excessive even without considering the below-ground forge). Along the far wall, boxes bearing various mercantile clan insignia line the shelves—evidence of funding that extends well beyond the Kirammans’ patronage.

Jayce seems to have forgotten altogether that Viktor had arrived yesterday and has taken to staring at him, as if trying to determine why he’s here. Sky Young (he recalls writing her a letter of recommendation and is pleased to see Jayce has taken her on) and a young man she introduces as ‘Thomas’ (clearly of Piltovan stock, by the way he stares at Viktor like a wide-eyed doe) have set about in a valiant crusade to carve out a space for Viktor amongst the chaos of papers and instruments.

The flurry of movement finally breaks Jayce’s stupor. He retreats to his workstation, where he begins cramming papers into a drawer. A key appears from his sleeve just long enough to turn the lock before vanishing back beneath his cuff.

Of course, Jayce would have lab assistants fretting over the mess Viktor knows damn well he made. He only just contains the urge to roll his eyes, especially when Jayce has the audacity to lean against the back of his chair in a poor attempt to look casual. “What, uh. What are you doing here?”

Maybe Jayce really has forgotten all of yesterday. “I wanted to talk to you about your work.”

Jayce’s honeyed irises glimmer with something like expectation, or even hope. The fact that this man thinks that they can reconcile so easily after everything he’d done to oust Viktor from the city that, much to his chagrin, kept him alive, indicates to Viktor just how much Jayce has always gotten his way. He’s always known this; he’s fallen into his own traps of wanting to please, to give, to see that almost boyish smile alight upon the other man’s lips.

But that grace, he reminds himself, is not to be trusted—just like any other member of Piltover’s upper caste, no matter how much Jayce likes to paint himself as the paragon of the common man.

Jayce laughs in a way that sounds a bit delirious, and Viktor has to look away. Jayce’s cravat lies on the desk, surely discarded the second he was able to remove it. The leather bracelet he typically wears sits beside it, half folded over itself, and Viktor knows Jayce must have been deep in thought, turning its length over and over, like a circle of prayer beads. These little signs of how his former partner hasn’t changed much in the time they’ve been apart begin to tug at his resolve, attempting to find frayed edges to pull apart. Viktor will not bend to this man again, just because he wears his emotions so openly.

“I can’t believe you’re using that line on me again,” Jayce mumbles, and as he does, Viktor notices his mouth fluttering through a fleeting smile.

“What line?” He sits at the newly cleared workstation that Sky indicates to him in gestures, making her way through a series of pantomimes that he interprets as her going to get breakfast. She practically shoves Thomas out of the room once he returns from ferrying a box of half-finished prototypes and tools upstairs. The doors shut firmly behind them; it can’t be any more obvious how awkward they’ve made this environment for the two young lab assistants. Well, he’s not doing anything more or less than he’s been asked, and he’s not going to let Jayce’s inability to hold a normal conversation keep him from carrying on with the work.

He has every right to be here, after all. He doesn’t need to justify himself. This thought gets forced to the back of his mind, where he refuses to give it any further attention. He has always had to make his own space, and just because this is Jayce doesn’t mean it’s any different.

Jayce turns on the spot, his erratic movements betraying his discomfort. Viktor finds himself looking first at Jayce’s rumpled clothes, then the shadow of overnight growth on his face, his tousled hair, and finally, his sleep-heavy eyes. He lingers there for a moment before clearing his throat, causing Jayce to jolt into awareness. “About yesterday—”

Viktor scoffs. “We’ve clearly said enough about how we feel.”

Jayce makes a noise that tells Viktor he’s pouting. “Look, I’m not trying to bring it all up again—”

“Obviously, you are.”

He feels as exasperated as Jayce sounds. His focus is on the tabletop, watching Jayce flatten his fingers against the surface in an attempt to keep his composure. “It’s just—that… That wasn’t how I intended it to go.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow. “Intended what to go?”

“You know—seeing—seeing each other. Again.” Jayce pauses to wet his dry lips with the tip of his tongue, and Viktor’s hands clench around the crutch he still has not let go of in spite of having sat down. “So, uh. I’m sorry.”

Viktor doesn’t respond beyond lifting his gaze to meet Jayce’s, maintaining careful indifference. They hold this moment in silence, then, Jayce releases a strained huff. A small, petty part of Viktor is satisfied.

“I’m… going to make tea.” Jayce stands, sliding his chair back with a loud scrape. “Do you… want any?” His makes his offer with hesitation, and that alone makes Viktor respond with almost a sneer.

“No. I’m fine.”

Once he’s moved across the room, Viktor finally allows himself to track the other man’s retreating back. He’s quick to dismiss the olive branch; it has something to do with how he can’t help but notice how Jayce’s coat settles across his broad shoulders, wrinkled from what must have been hours of the night spent hunched over his notes.

The effect this mental image has on him is maddening.

He focuses hard on the blackboard behind Jayce’s workstation, heart beating rabbit-fast. Fragments of calculations spill across the surface in that familiar, passionate scrawl; some notation has been viciously crossed out, others circled with aggressive emphasis. Viktor recognises the momentum of Jayce deep in the throes of inspiration and pictures him pacing between his notes and the board, brow knitted in thought.

Viktor wills himself to breathe evenly, setting his crutch aside against the table with a long exhale. This side of Jayce—dishevelled, intense, brilliant in his chaos—shouldn’t be so compelling—but this isn’t the city’s Progress Day darling. This is his Jayce, the real man behind the sculpted model that flashes up in front of the Council, crowds, and investors.

No—not his. Not anymore.

His pulse beats in his ears. His breath, superficially steady, falters. He has always possessed this deep affection, this painful attraction to his former partner, but his feelings are now much more intense than he ever remembered.

He retrieves the notes he collected from the floor following last night’s argument, stacking the papers on the desk in front of him. His motions are foreign with artificial precision as he adjusts them a fraction, aligning the corners and far edge. He places his pen along the top, then slides it to the right. He frowns at it.

“So,” Jayce starts, piercing the stiff silence. “How… are you adjusting back to Piltover?”

Viktor’s lip curls unkindly, but he keeps the ugly expression between himself and the tabletop. “Small talk, Jayce?” The words still drip with derision. Jayce either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“It seems safer.” The kettle bubbles to a boil. Jayce crosses his arms, then uncrosses them. The pads of his fingers drum an anxious rhythm against his bicep that Viktor follows with his eyes. His sleeves are hastily rolled up past his forearms, and his tanned skin is a shade paler across his left wrist, where he normally wears his bracelet. His hands are strong, rippling with his movements.

After an incriminating length of time, Viktor manages to tear his gaze away. The truth is clear to him, even after less than twenty-four hours topside. Adjusting will be hard—is hard. Living in Piltover has always been difficult for him; he has to play their games ten times better whilst only hoping for the barest return, and he can’t trust anyone. Not even Jayce—not again. “I don’t see why it’s necessary.”

“I can’t do silence, V—Viktor.” The correction of his name lands like a blow between them. Viktor reels from it, even though he’s the one who insists on their distance. Jayce’s next words are soft with cautious apology. “You know that.”

Viktor wants to shake himself. “Put on a record,” he suggests dryly.

Jayce’s shoulders tense. He purses his lips into a thin line. “Let’s… just get you caught up on the work.”

Irritation flares to life inside of Viktor—of course, Jayce expects him to simply fall in line, to pick up where they left off as if the years between them were merely a brief interruption. As if Viktor’s exile had been a minor inconvenience in the great narrative of their incredible journey. As if Piltover—as if Jayce hadn’t torn away everything he’d built for himself from scraps, much as the Undercity has risen from Piltover’s castoffs.

Familiar bitterness rises in his throat, but he swallows it back with a cough as he watches Jayce fix his tea with trembling hands. Nothing in Viktor’s life has ever been so easy, so accommodating, and Jayce has always failed to see what that truly looked like.

Jayce’s betrayal was agony, certainly, but its most terrible cruelty is that it was preventable. Viktor knew better, and, despite himself, he’d let Jayce’s warm smiles, gentle hands, and scientific enthusiasm win him over. But this time, he promises himself, he’ll abide by his lessons for living amongst the wolves in Piltover.

𐡸.:𐫱:.𐡷

Autumn, 974 AN - nineteen years ago

This city was specifically designed to torment him.

The Academy Square was impossibly wide, a torturous distance stretching between him and the classrooms. Even after trekking across its expanse, there were still endless stairs to climb before reaching the gauntlet in which he would have to demonstrate that he belonged in this city. Each landing was a temporary refuge before trial, a chance to catch his breath. Lances of pain shot through both legs, never mind just the bad one, and his overused muscles quivered with the effort of maintaining dignity under the wary glances of countless passing students.

The whispers had run, lightning fast, through the student body before the end of the day was out.

“Do you think he can read?”

“Must do, right? They wouldn’t let him in otherwise, even with Professor Heimerdinger’s favour… “

“Where did the professor even find him?”

In the grand lecture hall, he cautiously approached a group of students discussing coursework in low but animated voices. The conversation died the moment he approached, sending his heart leaping first into his throat, then to the pit of his stomach. He swallowed audibly, uncertain how to proceed under their attention.

“We were just discussing Professor Wingert’s summer intensive,” one student offered, a false brightness in their tone. “Did you attend?”

“No,” Viktor answered, attempting to keep his voice low enough that his accent might not be detectable, but this felt too insufficient an answer. “I studied independently—”

One of the students in the group, a round-faced teen with an absurdly large collar, gave him an aborted little cough that failed to hide his snicker. The girl next to him elbowed him without discretion, and Viktor noticed they all now seemed to be enraptured by anything that wasn’t him.

He clenched his teeth against the sharp stab of humiliation, refusing to give them the benefit of noting his embarrassment. Instead, he swept out a chair and settled into it, hooking his cane on the edge of the table before folding his fingers atop the surface. “Please, continue. I’m sure it will be enlightening.”

The students blinked at him, obviously unsure how to take his intrusion, and he waited them out with as patient an expression as he could manage. Eventually, they turned back to their chatter. He gave the occasional hum as if he followed the thread of conversation, quietly stewing in the bitter misery of the moment. He made himself sit through the banal recounting of their fancy summer course and laughed at jokes he didn’t fully understand until it felt less like retreating when he gave his quiet excuses and left.

He realised at some point that he had faded into the scenery for them. It felt marginally better than being an open interloper in their space, and it let him breathe, stretch out his aching leg, and dig his thumb into the painful knot that had been building at the joint of his knee after a day of endless stairs.

He marked this exchange down as his first lesson learnt.

Rule number one: make space for yourself; they will not make it for you.

It was as good a thing to learn as any about manoeuvring in this city. The Undercity had its own set of rules: never look distracted whilst walking alone, haggle a merchant’s first price, and memorise the locations of hazardous vents, the times at which they release, and when they can be safely walked over. Of course there would be plenty of similar circumstances for him to familiarise himself with, but he regretted stumbling unawares into one on his first day.

Survival in Piltover was less literal than it was back home, but the swift current raged around him, close to dragging him in. The threat of drowning made his next lesson all that more painful to swallow, like gulping water instead of air.

As his first few weeks continued, Viktor found himself existing in proximity to several other students in his year. He didn’t exactly pull them into conversation, but they seemed content to let him occupy their space during meals and study at their table in the Academy library in the evenings.

He appreciated the opportunity to not be left alone. The last thing he wanted was to make himself a target here. He wasn’t exactly sure what cruelties the shining citizens of Piltover might be capable of, but he hadn’t gotten that far in life by ignoring the simple rule that those left behind by the pack were easy to pick off.

What he didn’t anticipate was how quickly that illusion of safety in numbers could dissolve when he moved from being a mildly annoying shadow to something far more sinister—a threat to the proper Pilties in his lessons.

Viktor, after all, was smart. It was the one thing that carried him through every indignity of his life, every agony and complication. His intelligence was a weapon he had forged, honed, and used to carve his path.

He, however, didn’t realise it was a blade that could cut both ways until he showed up a fellow student at a lecture. It hadn’t been meant as a slight; it was simply in his nature to act on his knowledge. Classes were the one place he felt confident that being silent would do him more harm than good.

So when he cut across his fellow first-year’s fragmented attempts to reconcile an equation with a simple, “The math you did here is wrong,” he didn’t expect the daggers that shot his way. They came from not just the boy he’d corrected, but nearly half the class. He cleared his throat, resigning himself to make himself unshakeable in this clear social catastrophe, and picked up the chalk. With his cane tapping gently, he moved to the board and made a short correction of the boy’s work. “An oversight, I’m sure,” he managed stiffly, stepping back as their professor looked over the work with a hum of approval.

His classmates moved away from him that evening when he settled at their table to work. He spared a moment to watch them walk away before forcing himself to look back at his notes and stuff down the absurd notion that rejection could hurt him. Even if it could, he would never let them see it. He had been a loner before; he would manage being one here as well.

Rule number two: never rely on their grace—it is precarious, and they will exploit your weaknesses.

So went the rest of his first semester at the Academy, and in time, winter gave way to spring after a quiet holiday break that Viktor chose to spend on campus. It was towards the end of that first school year that he learnt his third lesson.

Viktor wasn’t one to notice looks right away, but even he noticed the striking appearance of the student approaching him—olive skin, jet black hair, and sapphires for eyes. Perhaps this was why he had been utterly unprepared when this person stopped beside him, peered over his shoulder, and asked, “What are you reading?”

Their accent was one he couldn’t place—it wasn’t quite round enough to be Piltovan, but it sounded close, perhaps belonging to a nearby neighbour.

Viktor looked up, already prickling with awareness. His hard expression softened slightly at the edges, though, when he saw that those blue eyes were bright with interest. “Realms of Runeterra,” he offered finally, lifting the book to show its cover.

“Sounds… big,” they commented with an easy smile, presenting him with a hand. “Morgan.” Viktor took it in his own, giving a cautious but crisp shake.

“Viktor.”

“Viktor,” Morgan repeated, as if trying out the name as they dropped onto the emerald grass beside him. “Well, in case you can’t tell, I’m not from around here either.”

For the remainder of the school year, Morgan and Viktor orbited what one could loosely call a “friendship,” if one were being generous.

Viktor didn’t see the other student much, as they were a year ahead of him and so didn’t share but two of his classes, but he found himself growing… excited for those lessons in particular. Something about those periods made his stomach perform tight backflips, which doubled in intensity whenever Morgan caught his eye and gave him a swift smile.

One evening, as the sleepy start of winter started to nip at the air, Morgan caught Viktor’s wrist as he was gathering his things. “Hey,” they said, leaning in conspiratorially, “there’s something I want to tell you.”

Viktor fumbled one of his books, nearly dropping his cane, but Morgan’s next words were not what he’d expected. “You’re brilliant, Viktor—but if you want to succeed here, you need to… adjust.” Their thumb traced circles on the back of his hand. “The way you speak—I know you can’t help the accent; I can’t do much about mine either, but—the way you present yourself? Like you have something to prove.”

“I do.” The words burst forth more insistently than he intended. He faltered, trying to justify them. “I… I know they don’t think I belong. But I can do the work just as well—better than any of them.”

Morgan sighed. “I’m only telling you this because I care.” They let go of his hand, standing back to fold their arms over their chest. “You worry too much about what others think. It keeps people away—I mean, you don’t see anyone other than me, do you?”

Viktor looked askance, burying the wellspring of discomfort that was beginning to burble in his chest. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to.

Later that week, Viktor heard Morgan’s lilting laugh from around the corner of one of the Academy’s sunlit halls. “It’s sort of cute how he’s more confident than anyone from the Undercity ought to be,” they were saying, eliciting snickers from their captive audience, “but he really ought to know his place.” Light flashed in his vision in a way that didn’t have anything to do with the crystalline window panes.

Viktor turned sharply down the hallway towards the voices, his cane stabbing the floor with each step. Something in him had gone cold and still; he didn’t even take satisfaction in the way the clack of his cane clipped off the group’s laughter when he passed by. He could feel their stares landing all over him but kept his own gaze firmly fixed ahead. He no longer remembered where he had been heading, but at least they knew he wasn’t going to lie down, clueless and naive, for their cruel humour.

Rule number three: they will lie to you. Their kindness is an instrument made of ice and mirrors instead of steel.

He spent that night, and each one after it, alone. Much like home, you couldn’t trust anyone topside. But at least in the Undercity, people bared their fangs so you knew they’d tear out a chunk of your flesh if you let them. Here, they flashed their pretty teeth like anglerfish, beckoning you in to be devoured before you knew it. Viktor refused to let himself be consumed by this city. He would learn everything it offered him, and even from what it did not. If their kindness was a weapon, so too would be his perception.

It wasn’t until the next week that Morgan attempted to approach him again as if nothing had changed. Viktor didn’t look up from his work as Morgan greeted him, but his voice carried just enough for those nearest them in the library to hear. “Here to offer me more advice about fitting in?”

“Viktor, I—” He could hear Morgan’s smile faltering in their words.

“You want to help me pull people in instead of keeping them away? Like you?” He fixed Morgan in his gaze, trapping them there, each word a pin to hold them down. “To tell them about who I know, what my family does—all so I’ll be worthy of my confidence?” He snapped his notebook shut, placing it carefully into his bag. “Are you going to teach me how to tell six different versions of the same story, depending on who is listening?”

Morgan wasn’t smiling now. Their hands clenched into fists at their sides, shoulders straining the perfect cut of their starched academy uniform. Viktor took this in, tracing the style of their hair, coiffed in the latest fashion without a single strand out of place. Despite their obvious mortification, their posture was still Piltovan perfect. Viktor wondered how long they had practiced in the mirror, turning to examine their pose from every angle. How many versions of themselves had they tried on before finding one that Piltover would accept?

In his periphery, he could see the nearby students pretending not to listen, but their pens were frozen in mid-air. Viktor leaned into his cane to push himself to standing and started for the door. He paused next to Morgan, letting his words fall softly, perhaps mercifully, over his shoulder.

“Before you mock someone for not minding their place, make sure you know yours.”

𓊈 first chapter | previous chapter 𓊉 𓊈 next chapter on AO3 𓊉

AN: thanks for reading chapter 5, 'Defiance' of our fic, Lies We Tell Ourselves! We're posting twice weekly on AO3 and sharing previously posted, full chapters on tumblr each day before update day 🎉 Our next update (ch. 18!!!) is coming up tomorrow if you want to get caught up!