#gone and pissed off the devil

[psychemochanight]

Imagine a situation where, in addition to seeing hallucinations of Jason, Dick can also somehow see Jason's ghost, But since he thinks it's just another hallucination, he doesn't pay any more attention to it than to the other one, although he is terribly confused.

On the one hand, his hallucinations are caused by guilt, so it whispers horrible things to him every day, slowly (not so slowly) turning him into a passive suicide, on the other hand, Jason doesn't want to see his older brother tear himself apart, so he keeps whispering positive things into his ear, telling him that he is a good brother despite the circumstances, that he never stopped helping him, and that this is not his fault.

Dick suddenly has like this version of the angel and the devil on his shoulders, but in reality it is his own mind fighting against the mind of his younger brother.

No one else in the family can see Jason, but they clearly notice Dick's erratic behavior.

Dick pays no more attention to the ghost than he does to the hallucination caused by his mind because he doesn't know that it's not a figment of his imagination, but sometimes it still helps.

When he sometimes seems to have no intention of dodging a blow or avoiding a fatal fall, he suddenly begins to move and fight for his life again.

Sometimes the opposite happens, he's doing a good job with self-care, and suddenly the next week he seems ready to end it all.

It's confusing to others, but not as much as it is to Dick. Still, this doesn't stop until Jason revives, the ghost is gone, but the hallucinations... They don't.

At least this Jason remembers the time he spent with his older brother as a ghost, and even though he's absolutely pissed off at Bruce... He still tries to stop his older brother from succumbing to his own mind.

Now if you want more angst, Jason has no memory of this time, and now it's not just the hallucinations, but Jason himself saying the same horrible things to Dick.

[venusstorm]

𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐒𝐢𝐫

Declan O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: Declan's assistant is hurt and confused by his sudden departure from Corinium. Upon a visit to his home, feelings unfold and truths become known.

Warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, pet names, daddy kink, spit kink, bathtub sex, breeding, mentions of reader having hair, claw marks, and bruises, finger fucking, choking, gagging, kissing, spanking, adultery

w/c: 3393

‥∵‥‥∵‥୨୧‥∵‥‥∵‥୨୧ ‥∵‥‥∵‥୨୧ ‥∵‥‥∵‥୨୧ ‥∵

"Where the hell is Declan!" You burst through the doors of the O'Hara household, loud and furious. You didn't buy the "He’s sick" claim for a moment, no matter how often Baddingham kept spewing the lie out of his mouth. And when you questioned his truthfulness, he sent you down the hall to Vereker's office, alerting you that you would no longer be Declan’s assistant. 

But you'd pull every last strand of hair from your head if you had to spend another second working for that asshole. And when that's gone, you'd start on your legs and then your arms, and perhaps a few eyelashes too. You ignored Tony's shouts as you left the office building searching for your true boss.

Which led you speeding through town, barreling through the countryside until you arrived at Declan’s grand estate. You banged on the door and when you were met with silence, your hands wrapped around the handle, pleasantly surprised when the door opened wide. 

Without hesitation, you stride through the foyer and march up the staircase. The long corridor witnessed you shout his name, scanning every room until you find his office. The doors cracked open which obviously means he’s welcoming you right in. 

"Declan! I swear to–" but his chair sits empty. A slew of papers and empty liquor bottles covered the surface. You squint your eyes in pure annoyance. If he's the reason you spend the rest of your week drowning out Verekers moans by fiddling your ears and banging your head against the desk, then he's in for it.

You sigh heavily as you turn around, heading for your next best guess. You envisioned him sneaking out drunkenly to a pub. Probably annoying the hell out of the bartenders because after his third drink, the man can’t shut the hell up. Or perhaps he's thrown himself into the woods to get eaten by wolves. You knew Declan, and when he hit rock bottom he crashed hard.

"That little shite doesn't know a goddamn thing."

The slurred words of Declan O'Hara ring through your ears. Like a siren call, you follow. He curses a fit of words, not once taking a breather. You follow the crude sounds until you reach another door. You don't bother knocking, he's far past the courtesy. 

"Found me," he slurs.

"Oh, for fucks sake, Declan!" You shield your eyes from the obscene view. He sits in a bathtub, legs sprawled open with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. A bottle of beer is held tightly in his grasp and he doesn't seem to have any plans to let go of it.

"I didn't tell you to come in here" he grumbles. "Heard yer stomps from a mile away."

"Well, I was worried. And also pissed you left me with that blonde-haired devil. He fucks like a rabbit and not in a good way. Wouldn't be surprised if he catches a damn itch."

Declan scoffs. "He’s already infested."

Your hands remain shielding your vision, leaving you blind to the way he stares off into space, taking the final swig of his drink and muttering beneath his breath. 

"Just come back please." You sigh.

The sound of glass clanking and rolling to the ground echoed around the bathroom. You jump from the sudden noise, tightening your hand around your vision. He rolls his eyes while delivering a mocking laugh.

"Hand me another bottle o'er there and I'll consider."

You stand firmly, scowling at his impossible behavior. 

“Standin’ there won’t help, darlin’. Don’t know why you’re tryin’.” He exhales a cloud of smoke, the scent wafting towards your nose and meshing with the woodland scent of his bath soap. 

“Just tell me where to walk” you quip. 

Declan’s eyes dart towards you, his lips curling into an amused grin. “Y'might need to be able to see for that.”

You shake your head in defiance, “Just tell me where to walk.”

He’s no longer interested in the shitty beer he kept hidden in the bathroom. Instead, he focuses on how easily you fall into line for him. 

"Go to the right."

You follow his command, stepping to the right without hesitation. 

"Now go straight about five steps."  You don’t question his directions, placing your full trust in his judgment. 

"Yes, Sir." You do as you’re told, taking five small steps and pausing. "Now what?"

He groans softly at your admission, his length stirring as you patiently wait for his next directions. Your tone unleashed fantasies he kept hidden within the depths of his mind and if you stayed for another moment, he’d happily release every last one. 

There's a moment of silence before he continues. "To the right once more and you've got it."

You blindly reach your hands outward but defeatedly grasp open air. "Declan? I don't feel it."

"Bend down a little, it's on the second shelf."

His eyes widen as the hilt of your skirt rises against your ass, revealing the lace garters decorating your legs. He takes a long drag, watching shamelessly as you shimmy to adjust the length, struggling to do so single-handedly.

Finally, you touch the slim neck of a glass bottle. "Oh! I found it!" You giggle excitedly.

Declan smirks. "Atta girl."

If you weren't too busy shielding your eyes from the outside world, you'd notice the way Declan scans your body. His gaze dropped from your face to the white blouse you wore. Half the buttons were undone but it wasn't like you could check. You stood in front of him like a temptress, all precaution flying out the window the moment he heard your soft laughter.

"Now how do I get back?"

He laughs breathlessly. "Same way you came."

"Uh okay." You attempt to retrace your steps. Mouthing his previous directions aloud until you're semi-close to the door.

"Now walk forward a few steps" he ushers.

You nod, walking carefully toward the sound of his voice. His eyebrows furrow with mischief as you approach, your steps growing wider and far too close to the edge.

The next sequence of events occurs in a blur. You tumble forward and the water splashes over the edge, coating the tiled floors as you fall into the bathtub. You squeal as the hot water warms your body, soaking your attire and revealing everything underneath to Declan's eyes.

"Asshole!" You shout. You attempt to stand only to wind up slipping and falling right back into place.

He presses his cigarette butt against an ashtray before grabbing your arms. He steadies you, dragging your body up against his with ease.

"And that's why we don't walk with our eyes closed."

"You didn't tell me to stop!" You're so enthralled in fury and he can't help but to revel in it. He can only smile as you curse, attempting once again to stand before accepting defeat.

"How much goddamn soap did you put in here!" You shake your head with bitter laughter. You lay back against him, your heart racing out of your chest as his arms find themselves on your waist.

An evident shift in mood affects the room. "Why won't you look at me?" He questions.

"Simple. You piss me off."

You shut your eyes even tighter, ignoring the way his length ghosted across your stomach. His chest hair was surprisingly soft, pillowing your head and causing your heart to beat a skip faster. You stay quiet as his hands drift away from your waist and towards your thighs, forcefully gripping them and dragging you closer to him.

"Then why'd you come here?" He retorts rather quickly.

"Tony. I'm sick of being ordered around by him."

Declan hums. "You didn't seem to have a problem taking orders a few seconds ago."

You whimper as he palms your ass, kneading it roughly. You place your hands against his chest, fighting the desire to give in.

“That’s different. I was helping a friend.”

His lips broaden into a smile at your select choice of word. “Friend?”

“Yes, Delcan. You’re my friend but clearly you could care less.”

He doesn't miss the bitterness in your tone. There was a hint of resentment that clouded your features. He saw it in the way you turned your head further away, limbs tensing against his touch.

"I care," he reassures.

"But you left me.” The vulnerable words tumble from your lips before you can stop them. “You caused complete chaos and rightfully so but you left without a word. I know I’m your assistant but I care about you, Declan. You always said we’d get out of that shitshow together and you left me.”

Truthfully, you grew attached to him, infatuated with a man whose brain met the greatness of his kindness. An unrequited love. You knew it was impossible for him to feel the same way but witnessing him leave without a word solidified your fears. You were merely his subordinate and nothing more. 

Your disappointment reaches your tear ducts and unshed tears of despair begin to descend your cheeks. Declan doesn't hesitate to wipe them away, his thumbs swiping across your skin in comforting movements. 

"There ya' go, darlin'. It's okay to be upset. I deserve it."

“Did you forget about me that quickly? You hadn’t even called.” You burrow your head into the crevice of his arm, still unwilling to face him. 

Forget? 

How could he forget when thoughts of you ran rampant in his head? He wasn’t one to take orders but anything you said rendered him defenseless. Despite being your superior it often felt as if he was learning from you. He’d do whatever you wanted without question. 

He spent nights thinking of you, his hand wrapped around his aching size as he dared not to wake his sleeping wife. Muffling his moans, he thought of how you’d look in her place. How he’d tilt your head backward, kissing you languidly while pushing past your folds. He envisioned your sensual tone calling out his name, begging him to push harder, deeper, to which he’d obey. Following your every command because that’s all he craved to do. Gritting his teeth, clenching the satin sheets until he dreamt of filling you with his seed, no longer caring if his wife heard him murmur your name. 

“I could never forget you.” There’s a sincerity in his tone that shutters your core. 

Slowly you break free from your darkened corner, at last meeting his heated gaze. He stares at you with pure desire, eyes dark and glimmering with something farther than lust.

You take in his naked form, staring at the dark hair that danced down his stomach and covered his shaft. Water dripped from his hair, his typically sleek curls jostled and free. You couldn’t see what lay beneath his waist but you felt his heaviness against your stomach, throbbing with unmet need.

“You’re drunk” you rebuttal weakly. 

He shakes his head, “M’perfectly fine.” He sobered the moment reality hit that your body was laid against his. 

He waits for your next argument but it never arrives. The two of you stare in silence, subdued desires coming to light. Slowly you begin unbuttoning your blouse, stripping the wet cloth from your shoulders and tossing it onto the mat. Declan assists you wordlessly, his hands pulling down your skirt before reaching to unclasp your bra. He takes in this moment. Kissing your skin every time another item is removed until you sit exposed before him.

His hand caresses the back of your head, drawing you close enough for your lips to graze. “Tell me to stop and I will.” 

You nod, stopping the furthest thing from your mind. 

“I need words, darlin’. Are you okay with this?”

“I’m okay, Declan. Just…” Your brain turns into a foggy haze as you search for what you’d like to say. He grips your jaw, tilting it upwards to better meet your gaze. 

“Just, what? It’s okay. I won’t be mad.” 

You can’t seem to formulate the words to describe how you felt. His touch overwhelmed you in the best way possible. The fresh scent of his skin drowned your senses and feeling your most intimate parts glide against him took the entirety of your focus. 

“I just need you.” Your soft tone stirs something animalistic inside of him. Without another wasted second his lips meet yours. It starts impulsively rabid, his tongue wrapping around yours while he pushes your head further into him. He groans into your mouth, eyelids fluttering closed as he gets lost in your taste. But then he goes slower, savoring the way your hips begin to grind into him as your kiss grows messy. Saliva drips from the corners of your mouth until he drags his lips back over them.

Calling him desperate would be an understatement.

He pulls away regretfully, brushing the pads of his thumbs over your lips to clean his mess. You whine from the loss of connection, lips still parted and demanding him for more. 

Declan chuckles, granting your wish and delving into your mouth once more. Your hips rock against him, willing his length to rise. The water sloshes back and forth as you grind against his stomach, watching the rapid rise and fall of his chest eagerly. Your hand rests against his unshorn chest hair, envisioning gliding your wet cunt over it until he’s drenched. 

“That’s it, darlin’. Use me.” He moans into your mouth, uncaring of how loud he was being.

“Hurts” you whimper. He pulls away once again, his hands finding yours beneath the water and directing them towards your heat. You jolt as his fingers graze your aching clit, “This what hurts, baby?” he hums. You nod, directing his fingers toward your puffy folds. 

He tsks, “I think that’s your job, darlin’.” You hadn’t quite understood what he meant until you felt him direct your fingers inside yourself. Your face contorts with pleasure as you shove them inside without question, using his chest as leverage while you ride. Declan watches you carefully before sliding his fingers back against your clit, pressing it roughly.

“Your pretty button’s so swollen. Just wanna make it feel better.” He rubs small circles around your clit, slapping it roughly when he notices your eyes rolling backward.

“Look at me when you play with your pretty cunt.” Declan ignores the way his cock jolts against his skin, desperate to be buried inside of you. All he cared about at this moment was your pleasure, physically reassuring your place in his world. 

“M’gonna cum” you whine.  

You say his name continuously as he continues to toy with your clit, tugging and slapping it until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Declan wraps you in a confining hug as you shake against him, his hands rubbing the back of your neck as he talks you through your orgasm. You nuzzle into his chest, allowing his huge frame to provide you comfort. “D-” Your tongue teeters on the line of murmuring a word you knew you mustn’t say.

“Did so good for me, baby. That’s it, I’ve got you. Just ride it out, I’m right here for you.”

But your mind slips and the word comes flowing from your lips. “Daddy.” It was hardly above a whisper but Declan caught it nonetheless. He watches you curl into him, a level of trust in your actions that he knew he had to maintain forever. 

You’re shaken from your haze as Declan taps his length against your cunt, a newfound look of pure hunger darkening his gaze. 

Pre-cum drips down his length, the water washing away any evidence of his sin. He rubs his reddened tip against your folds, groaning loudly as you spread your thighs wider for him. 

He drags you onto his cock, holding you upwards as you take his size. Your moans blend into one continuous sound as he fills you, stretching your walls as you claw at his back. 

“C’mon baby, know you can take more, can you do that for me?”

You shiver as you allow yourself to bottom out against him, muffling a scream as he breaches you entirely. His eyes roll as he embraces your warmth, his arousal growing heavier. He stares down at where the two of you connect, your walls choking his cock and leaking downwards.

A wave of adoration washes over him before it becomes tainted with angry realizations. You sat beneath him, his perfect match. Someone who balanced him, calmed him, put up with him. And yet, he’s had to push his feelings away in the name of not causing a stir. 

He’s angry that he’s trapped in a loveless marriage riddled with infidelity and fueled by his income. Trapped in this goddamn house that he could care less about. Angry that Tony dangled his career in front of him like a chew toy. And most of all he was livid that you weren’t the one sleeping next to him every night. 

Declan shoves his hips forward, bouncing you on his length. “So fucking tight” he grits through his teeth. You clench around him, your wetness welcoming him even further. The noises were obscene, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as your pussy squelched. He revels in it, fingers finding your sweet lips to shove them in between.

You witness the furrow in his eyebrows and undoubtable frustration. You meet his gaze, lips wrapping around his fingers and sucking. You take them deeper until they’re practically shoved down your throat. 

“Should’ve known you’d be a fucking slut. You like this, don’t you? Bet you wish you were choking down my cock instead.”

��Uh huh,” you whine. You’d thought about it all the time. When he’d arrive to work angry, sitting at his desk with a pout. How you’d wanted to sink to your knees beneath him, hiding beneath his desk while you slid him down your throat. Muffling your gags as he answered the phone while stroking your hair.

He hooks into your cheek, widening your mouth so he can spit into it. He taps you, commanding you to swallow to which you happily oblige. You shake against him, tits bouncing freely. He grips onto them, slapping your sensitive nipples until they pebble in his fingertips. 

“How does it feel, baby? You like being stretched out? Can barely keep your eyes open, can you?”

Pressing against your womb, Declan feels his length shatter your walls. He watches you fall into his broad chest, clutching onto his back while he holds you closely. 

“Feels so good, daddy.” You whimper. 

“That’s right, baby. Daddy’s got you. Gonna be my little cock whore amn’t ya? Surprised your little cunt could even fit. Just shows you're perfect for me, hm?”

“M’hm, perfect” you repeat.

He knows you're close, he feels it when your nails dig into his skin. Surely leaving marks that he wouldn’t feel the need to hide. 

“You need to cum, don’t you, baby? It’s okay, nobody’s here. Just us. Let go for me, let Daddy feel you.” His pace becomes slower, pounding into you with deep thrusts.

Your vision blurs as you reach your high, shouting Declan’s name as you gush around him. He follows suit, your pulsating walls unleashing his heavy orgasm. He doesn’t relent as he shoots his load into you, locking you down as he fills you with his seed. He could care less about the consequences, nothing else mattered at the moment.

He captures your lips in his, taking short breaths to whisper how good you were for him. He suckles on your collarbone, leaving definite bruises to match the claw marks you undoubtedly left on his back. 

“Let’s get you dry” he murmurs. 

You nod, too tired to reply or move. Declan slides out of you, saddened by the loss of connection. He carries you out of the bathtub, his spend dripping from your pussy and leaking onto his leg. He clenches his jaw, fighting the desire to fuck it right back into you.

He wraps you in a towel, drying your skin before taking you into his bedroom. He sits you on the bed while he scourers his closet for something you could wear. Landing on an old college shirt that he refused to throw out. 

As he slides it onto your body, he presses his lips against your forehead. A million words silently transcribe between the two of you. He’s unsure of what the future holds but he’s certain that you belong in his.

[voidsxntry]

VOODOO DOLL II T.N

summary: theo can’t get you out of his head. which could only mean you put a spell on him. or loosely based on a song

warnings: mean theo, language, hurt/comfort l WC 3.4k

authors note: fourth time trying to post this so let’s see how that goes

“She’s not going to magically appear if you keep staring at her table,” Mattheo muttered, irritation clear in his tone. Theo scoffed but kept his gaze fixed on the empty spot at the Gryffindor table.

Theo couldn’t stand you. That’s what he told anyone who would listen—you were too nice, too annoying, and every little thing you did got on his nerves.

The way you helped anyone in need, no matter if they treated you unfairly in the past. How you smiled at everyone and everything. Always in a good mood, when Theo couldn’t fathom why.

“Good morning, guys! Did you finish the Arithmancy homework from yesterday?” Your cheerful voice cut through his thoughts, nearly making him jump. Speak of the devil, he thought bitterly.

Theo rolled his eyes at your question. “Forgot again, or just getting lazier?” he sneered.

But your smile didn’t waver; if anything, it grew brighter. “Actually, I just need help with sections 6 and 8. I stayed up all night and still couldn’t figure them out!”

He couldn’t understand why you always talked to them—why you always acted so friendly with the rivals of your house. Maybe that was another reason he couldn’t stand you; it felt like you were deliberately trying to get under their skin.

“Sucks to be—” Mattheo began, but Theo jabbed his elbow into his side, cutting him off with a sharp look.

“Just here, take my paper,” he grumbled, pulling out his parchment and thrusting it toward you. Your fingers brushed his briefly, and Theo jerked his hand back as a tingling sensation shot through him.

“Thanks, Theodore!” you beamed, practically skipping back to your table, which only irritated Theo more.

“What the hell was that?” Mattheo demanded.

“Fuck if I know. I couldn’t stop myself,” Theo muttered. “I wanted to tell her to piss off and figure it out on her own.” He scowled, shoving his food away, his appetite suddenly gone.

“Maybe she’s got you under some spell, Nott,” Draco chuckled. “Drink anything suspicious lately?”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Theo snapped, the idea unsettling him. The thought of you having that kind of influence over him was ridiculous.

He could still feel the ghost of your touch, as if you were still caressing his hand, even though you were now back at your table, tongue out in concentration as you scribbled down the answers.

“Don’t get why she didn’t just ask Granger for help,” Lorenzo chimed in, mouth full of food.

“Because Hermione wouldn’t just give her the answers. She’d explain it step by step—which she doesn’t have time for—since it’s her next class,” Theo replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The boys exchanged knowing smirks. “And how exactly do you know that?” Blaise teased.

Theo realized how that sounded, but before he could defend himself, you reappeared to hand him his paper back.

“You’re a lifesaver, Theodore! I owe you one,” you said, squeezing his bicep in appreciation before heading off to class early as ever.

“Yeah, whatever,” Theo muttered, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of your touch, the burning sensation in his chest, and the rapid beat of his heart whenever you were near.

Once you were out of sight, his heart began to slow, but a different ache settled in. It was almost like he missed you—which was ridiculous. He shook the thought from his mind immediately.

Maybe someone did slip him something; whether it was a prank or an accidental slip-up, he had to get rid of it, and fast.

———

Days passed, and Theo only felt worse. He constantly thought you were nearby, even when he knew you were in a different class on the other side of the school. Your touch was ingrained in his mind, as if he could still feel you. Some days, it felt like you were right next to him, invading his personal space, only for him to see you across the field, chatting with your friends.

His friends were no help when he mentioned it. They just teased him endlessly on having a crush on a Gryffindor, which he quickly shot down.

You were an annoyance. Someone who bugged the hell out of him, and that was it—nothing more.

To make matters worse, you both got paired up in Muggle Studies. A class he took just to piss off his dad was now backfiring spectacularly.

The assignment was to write an essay about what Muggles believed to be ‘witchcraft,’ which seemed simple enough—if only he didn’t have to work with you.

“Okay so I was thinking of voodoo dolls, because I think others are gonna pick psychics or magicians,” you started, flipping through some pages of your textbook, “and I think we could get extra points if we somehow have a physical doll!”

He could feel your excitement radiating off of you and it was nauseating but he nodded and agreed. You went on and said you would send an owl to your mother to see if she could buy one from the shops in your hometown.

Theo barely paid attention as you rambled on about your plans for the essay. The way you spoke with so much enthusiasm, your eyes bright with excitement—it was almost unbearable. Not because it annoyed him, but because it made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t ready to confront.

“Do you even care about this project?” you asked suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. You were watching him with a hint of concern in your eyes, which only made him feel more unsettled.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I care about passing,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. “But I don’t see why you’re so invested in it.”

You shrugged, the usual brightness in your expression dimming a little. “I just think it’s interesting, that’s all. And maybe…” You hesitated, then added, “I thought it’d be nice to work with you.”

Theo blinked, caught off guard by your honesty. His initial reaction was to snap back with a sarcastic comment, to push you away as he always did. But something stopped him.

“Why?” The question slipped out before he could stop himself.

You looked down, fiddling with your quill. “I don’t know. You’re different from most people, Theodore. You’re not afraid to be yourself, even if that means being a little rough around the edges.”

He stared at you, stunned into silence. Was that how you saw him? And why did it make his heart skip a beat? He could feel his defenses cracking, the walls he’d built so carefully starting to crumble.

“Anyway,” you said quickly, as if embarrassed by your admission, “I’ll let you know if my mom finds a voodoo doll. We can meet up later to go over the details?”

“Yeah… sure,” he replied, his voice sounding far away. He watched as you gathered your things, flashing him another bright smile before leaving the classroom.

Once you were gone, Theo let out a frustrated groan, slumping back in his chair. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never let anyone get under his skin like this before. Yet, with you, it was like he had no control over his own emotions. There was something wrong with him.

The thought of you saying he was “different” kept replaying in his mind. It wasn’t an insult, but it wasn’t exactly comforting either. He hated the idea that you could have this effect on him.

As the days went on, he found himself increasingly distracted by you. The way you laughed with your friends, the way you focused on your studies, the way you went out of your way to be kind to everyone—even to him, despite how he treated you.

The next time you met to work on the project, Theo couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering to your hands as you gestured animatedly, explaining some new idea you had. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have those hands touch him again—whether by accident or design.

When you handed him a book, he purposely brushed his fingers against yours and once more, he felt that now-familiar jolt of electricity. But this time, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let the contact linger for just a moment longer, savoring the warmth that spread through him.

But as soon as the moment passed, he cursed himself silently. He couldn’t let this happen. You were a Gryffindor, and you represented everything he claimed to hate—yet, here he was, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, noticing his distant expression.

“No,” he said quickly, forcing a smirk. “Just thinking about how ridiculous this project is. Muggles and their superstitions.”

You laughed, and the sound sent another pang through his chest. “It is pretty silly, isn’t it? But it’s kind of fascinating too, don’t you think?”

Theo shrugged, playing it cool. “Sure, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I am,” you said with a grin. “But maybe by the end of this, you will be too.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no real malice behind it. “Don’t count on it.”

As you continued working, Theo found himself glancing at you more often, watching the way your lips moved as you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you got excited about something.

After the study session, Theo left with an unfamiliar smile tugging at his lips, lost in thoughts of you. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice Mattheo approaching from behind in the hallway.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Mattheo said, his voice laced with curiosity. “What’s with the grin? Did you win a fight?”

Theo scoffed, quickly wiping the smile from his face and replacing it with his usual scowl. “Salazar’s sake, no, I wasn’t in a fight.”

“Then why are you so happy? Snog someone? Wait—don’t tell me, did you snog Bug?” Mattheo teased, his tone dripping with mockery, fully aware of how much Theo loathed that nickname recently.

“Stop calling her that,” Theo snapped, shaking Mattheo’s arm off and feeling his good mood souring by the second.

“Oh, since when do you come to her defense? Especially when you’re the one who started calling her that,” Mattheo retorted, raising an eyebrow. The nickname had been an impulsive jab, something Theo came up with in a moment of annoyance. Now, it felt like a cruel joke.

Ignoring Mattheo, Theo continued down the hallway toward the Slytherin dorms, determined to work on his portion of the essay. But Mattheo wasn’t ready to let it go.

Once they reached the Slytherin common room, Mattheo seized the opportunity to stir the pot. “Hey, guys, doesn’t Theo seem a little… different lately?” he announced, adopting an exaggerated infomercial voice. “We barely see him, and when we do, he’s actually smiling.”

Theo halted in his tracks, irritation bubbling up inside him.

“I noticed that too,” Pansy chimed in, her tone dripping with curiosity. “He’s been sneaking off a lot.”

“Yeah, what’s the deal, Nott?” Blaise added, his voice teasing. “Too good for us now?”

Theo rolled his eyes, adjusting the stack of books you had recommended in his arms. “I’ve just been busy, you know—actually doing schoolwork.”

“Sure, and by ‘schoolwork,’ you mean hanging out with Bug,” Draco chimed in, his grin widening. “I thought you couldn’t stand her?”

“You lot are a bunch of tossers,” Theo shot back, his patience wearing thin. “Yes, I’ve been working with her because we got paired up for a project. That’s all.”

They exchanged skeptical glances, sensing there was more to the story.

“What’s the project about?” Pansy asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Theo let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s an essay on Voodoo dolls for Muggle Studies.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Mattheo’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Voodoo dolls? Are you serious, Theo? You’re supposed to be the smart one here!”

Theo frowned, confused by Mattheo’s sudden outburst. “What the hell are you on about now?”

“Voodoo dolls, you daft git!” Mattheo exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat. “They’re Muggles’ way of trying to control people! Haven’t you been paying attention? She might have one of you—that’s probably why you’ve been acting so strange!”

Theo stared at Mattheo, a mix of annoyance and unease settling in. The idea was absurd—yet the possibility gnawed at him. Was that really what was happening? It would make a lot of sense.

Theo dropped everything and bolted out of the common room, his mind racing as he stormed through the castle. The further he went, the angrier he became. How could you do this to him? He thought he was finally feeling something other than disdain toward you��only to find out you were messing with his head.

As he rounded the final corner near the Gryffindor common room, he spotted you. But you weren’t alone. You were talking to another Gryffindor, laughing that same laugh you shared with him. The sight made his blood boil, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Was messing with my head not enough for you?” Theo shouted, his voice filled with fury. “Did you need more attention, so you found another tosser to add to your list?”

You flinched at his sudden outburst but didn’t immediately turn to face him. You quietly excused yourself from the conversation with your housemate before turning to glare at Theo.

The look you gave him was like nothing he’d ever seen on your face before—cold, angry, and so unlike the usual warmth you radiated. It unnerved him to be on the receiving end of such a glare.

“Can I help you, Nott?” you asked, your voice eerily calm. If Theo had been less blinded by his own anger, he might have noticed the tension in your jaw and the way your fists clenched at your sides.

“Yes, you can start by telling me what the hell you did to me!” Theo took a step closer, looming over you in an attempt to intimidate, but you stood your ground, unfazed.

“I haven’t done anything—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Theo interrupted, his hands gripping your shoulders as if shaking you might jog your memory. “You came up with that stupid voodoo doll project, and ever since then, you’ve been in my head day in and day out! So don’t act like you don’t know what’s going on!”

You shoved him off you, your scoff laced with disbelief and hurt. “You’re so full of yourself, Nott. Do you really think I’d waste my time controlling you? What kind of person do you think I am? Do you honestly believe I’m that desperate for attention?”

Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his accusation hurt. “Fuck you, Nott. Maybe you should take a hard look at yourself instead of blaming me for the fact that you’re finally feeling something—anything—other than that cold, emotionless shell you’ve built around yourself.”

Theo stood there, speechless, as you turned and disappeared behind the Fat Lady’s portrait. Every word you said hit him like a punch to the gut. He knew you were right—he’d been pushing people away for so long that he didn’t know how to deal with real emotions. But hearing it from you, someone he had started to care about, hurt more than he could admit. He knew he owed you an apology, but he had no idea where to start.

The walk back to the Slytherin common room was humiliating. When he entered, his friends were in the same spots, waiting with anticipation.

“Well?” Mattheo asked impatiently, a smug grin on his face like he knew he was right all along.

“You lot are absolute wankers,” Theo muttered, snatching up the books he had dropped earlier without sparing them a second glance. He stormed up to his dorm room, ignoring their confused looks.

He had to find a way to make things right with you. The ache in his chest wasn’t just the usual discomfort he felt around you—it was something deeper, something he couldn’t ignore.

———

Theo spent the entire night poring over the books you had lent him. As he read, he realized Mattheo’s theory was complete nonsense. None of the feelings he had for you had anything to do with “voodoo” or any other magical influence. They were real, and they terrified him.

Determined to fix the mess he had made, Theo stayed up to finish the entire essay by himself, lightening your workload. He even turned it in first thing in the morning, two days before the assignment was due.

He spent the rest of the day trying to find you to let you know you didn’t have to worry about the project and to apologize, but you were nowhere to be found. He searched the Great Hall, the library, and even, with great reluctance, asked Potter if he had seen you. No luck.

By the time dinner rolled around, Theo was too distracted to eat. His fork aimlessly pushed food around his plate while his head rested on his palm. Enzo jabbed him in the side, snapping him out of his daze. Theo shot him a glare but followed Enzo’s gaze to see you walking past their table without so much as a glance in their direction. When you sat down at your table, your eyes instinctively met Theo’s, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw a flicker of something softer. He offered a small smile, but you rolled your eyes and turned back to your friends.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her anything but cheerful. She must be pissed that we figured her out, huh?” Enzo commented, eliciting a few laughs from the group.

Theo’s fork clattered onto his plate, the loud noise silencing them immediately. They had seen Theo angry before, but never like this, never directed at them.

“Do you ever think about anyone other than yourselves?” Theo snapped. “She didn’t do anything wrong. What’s wrong is that I listened to you lot and screwed everything up.”

He abruptly stood and made his way over to you. You furrowed your brows in confusion, aware that Slytherins didn’t usually venture to the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. The hushed whispers that followed Theo didn’t faze him; he only cared about setting things right.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, asking you to follow him. Despite your better judgment, curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself following him out of the Great Hall.

Theo led you to a secluded hallway, casting a quick Muffliato charm to ensure privacy. He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a moment before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice heavy with regret. “I was an absolute tosser. You were right—I’ve never felt anything like this before, and it scared me. I tried to find every excuse to deny it, and in the process, I lashed out at you. I shouldn’t have accused you of something so ridiculous.”

You stared at him, your silence unnerving him. He continued, desperation creeping into his tone. “I know there’s no excuse for what I said, and I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. But if there’s any chance, I’d like to start over. I’ll do anything to make it right.”

Maybe it was because you had started liking Theo too, or maybe it was the sincerity in his apology, but it wasn’t hard to forgive him.

“Although getting accused wasn’t ideal and did hurt, I accept your apology, Theodore,” you said, offering him a small smile—the smile he didn’t realize how much he’d missed until now.

Theo’s heart lifted at your words. “If I’m not pushing my luck… could I take you to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Theo held his breath, anxiously awaiting your response. You hesitated for a moment, the silence stretching between you, before finally stepping closer. With a gentle smile, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just a second longer than necessary. As you pulled back, your eyes met his, filled with a warmth that made his heart race.

“I’d like that,” you whispered, your voice tender and genuine.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Theo felt the tight knot in his chest begin to loosen.

©𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥 2024

[stellaaarree]

LOOK AT HIS POUTY LIL LIPS.ABSOLUTELY BEGGING TO BE KISSED!!

teasing miguel hehe! (fluff)

you come in, miguels most likely messing around with his gizmo. propping yourself on your tiptoes, two fingers hooking into the fabric of his suit you give him a lil smooch!

“¿para qué era eso, bonita? t: what was that for, pretty?” miguel asks, his voice a little raspy and his eyes dumbfounded. “you’re pouting.” you state, still propped on your tiptoes, holding his suit.

in response miguel’s hands land on your hips, picking you up and setting you on the desk, slotting between your legs with an even more pouty expression he grumbles. “i do not pout.” a laugh slips past your lips as you watch him get all defensive. pissing him off further you ruffle his hair. his hard-ass demeanour pleading not to crumble, especially not in the semi public.

“cariño. t: honey.” he hisses. replied with a single “whaaat?” and a giggle. its too late to save himself though. lyla in the doorway, already taking pictures of miguel (our big bad spiderman.) slotted between your legs and having his hair played with as he pouts like a baby.

“lyla.” was all miguel needed to hiss before lyla was already gone, taking her camera with her. that was gonna be blackmail for a while.

you try to do a coy apology, getting half way through your “sor-” before miguel stops you with a “don’t you start, pequeño demonio. t: you little devil.” making you giggle and pull him into another little kiss by his spider suit.

A/N, holy shit!! i came back this morning to see over 200 likes on my posts?! i actually love you all so much!! also was gonna ask, would you guys read stuff that i wrote about ghost (cod mw2)?? let me know haha because i have a few ideas >o<!!💝💝

[rowdydevs]

+18 -> smut | rafe gets jealous when he catches you in someone else’s jersey 🩷

𝓷𝓱𝓵!𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: ownership, marking, jealous, choking, the reader teases him intentionality, woll walks into the reader’s place on an off-night and catches her wearing a hughes jersey *cross-posted on my nhl account

600 words

You heard the lock click and the door swing open, and you barely suppressed your grin. Rafe stepped into your place, still in sweats from his morning skate, his hair a little messy poking out of the sides of his hat; that boyish grin already formed as he caught the twinkle in your eyes until he saw it.

You didn’t even pretend to hide. Just stood in the kitchen, putting away the dishes barefoot, wearing nothing but a Hughes jersey, looking over your shoulder with the most innocent look you could muster. The jersey swallowed up your frame, just barely grazing the tops of your thighs, your ass peeking out of the bottom as you rose on your tiptoes, putting away a cup. No shorts. No panties. Nothing.

His eyes flickered over you slowly, his smile fading, replaced by a stormy silence. He dropped his keys on the counter and turned his hat from front to back. His head cocked slightly, jaw ticking as he held back for the moment.

“Rafe… Baby, are you okay—”

“You serious right now?” His voice was low and calm, but his piercing blue eyes were anything but.

“What?” You ask sweetly, biting your lip. “I found it in the back of the closet… We’re watching the Devs. It’s—It’s comfy.”

“So, you know why I'm pissed. I didn't even need to tell you.”

“Well, I kind of figured, given your focus—”

“You don’t even like the Devils,” he cuts you off with a scoff.

“You know how I am, Rafe. I'm a sucker for a defenseman. And, he’s a cutie too—” In two long strides, he was in front of you, fingers gripping your waist with just enough pressure to make you suck in a breath.

“Take it off—”

“Why?” You ask as you widen your eyes and flutter your lashes, looking up at your boyfriend, feigning innocence.

His hands slid down, gripping the backs of your thighs and lifting you with ease. You gasped, legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, your back pressed against the kitchen wall a moment later.

“The fuck you did you're doin’, huh?” Rafe growled, his mouth brushing hot against your ear, “you don't wear another name when this pussy belongs to me.”

You gasped, thighs clenching around him as he rutted up into you, hard already, pupils blown and wild.

“You want me jealous?” He murmured against your jaw. “That’s what you want. ‘Cause I know you know better—tell me you know better.”

“I know better—” His lips crash into yours, all teeth and tongue, hands everywhere. Rough and possessive as he lowers you to the floor, fighting off his shirt and sweats between messy kisses before tearing you out of the other jersey, tossing it to the floor. He kicks your legs apart, thrusting up into you, making you feel it in every inch, every bite along your neck, every growled ‘your mine’ muttered into your hot skin as you whimper and whine for more.

Rafe threw you down on your couch, your neck littered with marks, lips plump and swollen, pussy wet and messy as his hand wrapped around your neck, holding you down.

You were breathless and needy, body aching for him to keep going as your bottom lip quivered—he lowered himself to your lips, his hold still tight, pulse banging against his palm as his forehead pressed to yours.

“Don’t pull that shit again,” he whispered, his voice deep and hoarse as his lips brushed gently against yours.

“Mhmm…” You whimper as your fingers scratch through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him to your lips. “I promise.”

He kissed you soft and slow as he tapped his tip against your clit, feeling your sharp breaths against his lips.

“That thing’s gone,” he muttered. “Torchin’ it.” You smile against his lips as he swirls his throbbing head around your soaked hole, thrusting inside. “You're mine.”

tags: @rafesthroatbaby | @hughessweetheart | @slut-4-rafey | @blair-bears-blog | @iikximii | @akobx | @gri959 | @misatxox | @ch4rrykisses | @st8rkey | @laniirackssss | @barnesboo1967 | @justdamnpeachy | @dylsdaily | @rafesapprentice | @angellocket | @my-name-is-baby | @wtfisastiles | @skye-44 @romaescapes | @anothershorthuman | @rafeslovergirly | @vanessa-rafesgirl | @v3n1ce-bxtch | @maybankslover | @theater-bitch | @frankoceanluvr11 | @rcameronlova1 | @lhhlver | @yourmomdotcom42069 | @cameronsprincess | @kdoll-7 | @angelicameron | @imsiriuslyreal | @alphabetically-deranged | @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account | @hyperfixationgirl | @faephoria | @wtfdudesblog | @rafesdoll | @yasmin-oviedo | @lizzysmith110 | @ietss | @livie4lifestarkeyblyth | @lilithblackkk | @premiumshitt | @littlelamy | @dulcescorderitas | @prettybabyyyy | @star017 | @hannieskzzz | @biascriptum

[snail-day]

Terms and Conditions Apply

Yan!SatoSugu x Reader - unwholesome edition

Sum: Normal college roommate activities, except your roommates, are madly in love with you and have a really weird way of showing it.

TW: Yandere Behaviors (manipulation, obsessive, possessive,etc), Omorashi/Piss, noncon/dubcon, oral (m! receiving), Abuse of showerhead, Reader is a bit dense, Power Dynamics, Alcohol consumption, unhealthy relationships, Infantilization, MDNI

WC: 6.0k

A/n: I will probably finish editing the wholesome edition later this week. :) I feel like I've been too angsty lately and I lowkey prefer the wholesome version a bit more, however, my beta reader likes this one so we'll see!

How far is one willing to go?

Willing to sell their soul to the devil—or in this case, devils. The ones you once called your best friends. The ones who stripped you of your rights because you owed them. Because they owned you.

Suguru and Satoru—two trust fund kids with more money than they could ever spend—had waltzed into your life during your freshman year of college, offering friendship cloaked in charm and generosity.

They’d given you a place to stay, sliding a 52-page lease across the table. A document so thick and dense that it had made your stomach turn. Your heart, your instincts, your very soul screamed at you to stop. To read between the lines. But you didn’t.

You trusted them. You ignored the red flags.

You brushed off the subtle proclamations of love buried in their actions, their words, their very presence. How they’d spoke of living up to your standards. How they hinted they’d have truly courted you—if only you’d given them the time of day.

But you didn’t. You dismissed their flirting as harmless.

And like any rich men who refused to be denied, they did the next best thing. They bought you.

You really should’ve let them court you.

Because if you had, maybe you wouldn’t be here now—trapped in their twisted acts of devotion. Acts they called love.

Satoru, with his dazzling grin and sharp blue eyes, always joked about wanting a dog. Something to take care of, to love him unconditionally, to always come when called.

Suguru, ever composed and calculating, never hid his desire for control. He wanted something—or someone—to care for, to command, to obey his every word.

And now, that someone was you.

You’d gone too far for free rent, hadn’t you?

It was almost funny, in a cruel way. You’d joked once about selling feet pics to creepy old men to make ends meet, and Satoru had flashed you that sharp, wolfish grin and asked, “How much?”

You’d laughed it off, calling him ridiculous. But he hadn’t been joking. Not even a little.

If you had said a number, he would have bought them on the spot, saving them for later use. 

When you couldn’t afford drinks on karaoke night, you’d waved it off, saying you’d be fine with water. But Suguru had just smiled, handing over his black card without hesitation.

“Don’t worry about it,” he’d said, his voice smooth, almost tender.

The whole night, he had coddled you, his arm a steady weight around your waist as you sang along to the music. When you were tipsy and laughing, stumbling into him, he’d pulled you onto his lap, his hands lingering just a little too long.

You didn’t notice.

You didn’t notice how his hands trailed along your thighs, how he tilted his head closer to catch the scent of your perfume, how his dark eyes gleamed with something dangerous.

They loved you.

They loved you so much that buying you was the easiest option.

Kidnapping you would have been messy, after all.

This? This was clean.

A lease. A signature. A series of favors and debts that quietly piled up until you were ensnared—unable to leave or even think about leaving.

You thought of them as just weird, quirky roommates. That’s what you kept telling yourself.

Satoru had the habit of barging into your room unannounced, sprawling across your bed like it was his own. He’d hug your pillows to his chest, burying his face in them, his bright blue eyes gleaming with amusement.

And behind your back?

He punched and slapped every single one of your stuffed animals.

All except for the ones he bought you.

Like the stuffed alligator he’d gifted you last month. “Because you’re so snappy,” he’d said with a wide grin, teasing you endlessly as he mimicked your glare. “And because you do those little alligator rolls when I try to cuddle you.”

He wasn’t lying. You did twist and squirm to escape his grip whenever Suguru was away, and Satoru found himself “too lonely” to sleep in a big bed all by himself.

“I need you,” he’d whine, tugging at your blanket as he wedged himself onto your mattress. “Friends can cuddle, y’know. It’s even in the lease—clause 22!”

You’d scoffed, rolling your eyes. “There’s no way that’s real.”

But, of course, you hadn’t read the lease.

You hadn’t read clause 22, clause 34, or any other fine print buried in those 52 pages.

If you had, maybe you’d have noticed the way they’d written their love into the lines of the contract. The way their obsession had been framed as something so mundane, so harmless, that you never thought to question it.

Instead, you dismissed it. Dismissed them.

They were just your weird, clingy roommates, right?

That’s what you told yourself every time Satoru squeezed the stuffed alligator to his chest, grinning as he teased, “See? It’s like me and you! You’re the snappy little gator, and I’m the big, lovable guy keeping you from biting anyone else.”

It was playful. Harmless, you managed to convince yourself.

But sometimes—especially in the dead of night, when the world was quiet, and there was nowhere to hide from the truth—you struggled to ignore the way his hands would wander.

How he’d press open-mouthed kisses against your chest, the wet heat of his lips leaving trails along your skin. The way his hands would squeeze your plush breasts, fingers digging in just a little too roughly, as if claiming them, claiming you, in his sleep.

You told yourself he was dreaming—lost in some haze where he thought you were someone else, or something else.

But when morning came, and you hesitantly brought it up, he’d blink at you with feigned innocence, his blue eyes wide and unbothered. “Did I really?” he’d ask, laughter bubbling just beneath the surface of his words. “Man, I must’ve been dreaming about something really good.”

His grin would widen, that devil-may-care attitude making you question if you’d imagined it all.

“Hey,” he’d say, throwing an arm around your shoulders as he steered you out the door, “let’s grab breakfast. My treat. Consider it a ‘thanks’ for not ripping my arm off in my sleep.”

The offer, so casually given, left you with no choice but to follow. To let him guide you down the street to the café he liked, where he’d order for you without asking—a gesture that felt less thoughtful and more… presumptive.

As he filled the table with plates of food you hadn’t asked for, his laughter echoing through the small, bustling space, you found yourself playing along. Smiling at his jokes, laughing when he wanted you to, pretending that everything was normal.

Because what else could you do?

Confronting him felt impossible. Denying him? Even more so.

It was easier this way—going along with the current, letting him pull you wherever he wanted, feeding you bites of his food like you were some cherished pet rather than a person with agency of your own.

“Open up,” he’d coo, holding a forkful of syrup-drenched pancake to your lips, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction when you complied. “Good girl.”

And you’d swallow it down, the sweetness coating your tongue as his praise sent a shiver crawling along your skin.

Because it was easier to pretend.

Easier to act like this was just how things were—how they’d always been.

But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, the question lingered, heavy and unavoidable:

How far were you willing to go?

You kept telling yourself to endure. Just two more years until you graduate. Two more years, and you’ll be free.

You could play along until then. You had to. You needed the cheap rent.

And it wasn’t like you could even prefer one of them over the other. They were equally clingy, equally overbearing in their own ways.

Suguru, at least, had the decency not to invade your space outright.

He never barged into your room unannounced like Satoru. He didn’t sprawl across your bed or bury his face in your pillows. No, Suguru was different. His methods were quieter, subtler.

Whenever Satoru left for the weekend to visit his family, it was Suguru who kept you company. He’d coax you onto the couch with him, his deep voice laced with calm reassurance.

“You’ll keep me company, won’t you?” he’d ask, his tone so soft, so genuine, that refusing felt impossible.

And before you knew it, you’d find yourself in his lap, his strong arms wrapping firmly around your waist as he leaned back, settling you against his chest.

“It soothes me,” he’d murmur, his voice low and almost apologetic. “I’ve been so stressed with my master’s lately. You don’t mind, do you?”

How could you say no?

Suguru always had a way of making his needs sound so reasonable, so innocent. You didn’t even think to question it—not until his hands started to linger. His thumbs would trace small, deliberate circles against your hips, his breath warm against the back of your neck.

Clause 12.

That’s what he’d called it the first time you hesitated.

“Roommate will always provide emotional comfort,” he’d said, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips as his dark eyes held yours.

You hadn’t read the lease, of course. But when Suguru spoke, his voice so calm and assured, it was hard not to believe him.

So you let him hold you.

You let him keep you there for hours, his hands warm and steady as they rested on your waist, his quiet hums vibrating against your back. You sat frozen, unsure of where the line had blurred—or if there had ever been a line at all.

Things changed after one night.

You’d gone out for drinks with some friends—a rare occurrence these days. Between their constant presence and your dwindling social circle, opportunities like this had become few and far between.

Maybe that’s why you drank more than you should have.

The alcohol buzzed warmly through your veins, leaving your mind foggy and your limbs loose as laughter spilled freely from your lips. You didn’t even notice how late it had gotten until someone pointed it out, and the world tilted slightly as you tried to check the time on your phone.

“Shit,” you mumbled, your voice slurred as you stared at the blurry screen. You scrolled to Satoru’s contact—he always answered first—and hit call.

When they arrived, it was like the entire bar shifted.

“Oh my God, those are your roommates?” one of your friends teased, dragging out the words as she nudged you with a playful grin. “You’ve been holding out on us! Are you playing games or something?”

A giggle bubbled out of you as you swayed in your seat, the room spinning slightly. “Nooo,” you slurred, shaking your head a little too hard. “They’re just—”

Before you could finish, Satoru’s tall frame appeared in front of you, crouching down to your level. “Having fun, huh?” he asked, his bright blue eyes glinting with something unreadable.

You buried your face in his shirt, giggling uncontrollably. “Satoruuu,” you slurred, your voice high-pitched and childlike. “I’m fineeee. I was just… just hanging out!”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said, chuckling as he shifted you in his arms, holding you upright as your legs wobbled.

Meanwhile, Suguru quietly slipped away to the bar, his expression calm and collected as he handed over his black card to settle your tab. When he returned, his eyes gleamed with something dark, though his lips curved into a faint smile as he glanced at your friends.

“Ah, sorry we haven’t announced we’re dating yet,” he said smoothly, his voice low, a grin playing at his lips.

The table erupted into laughter and cheers, glasses clinking together in celebration.

You blinked slowly, your alcohol-heavy mind struggling to process his words. “Wait… what?”

You tried to straighten up, but Satoru’s grip on you tightened, pulling you back against him. “Shh, don’t make a scene,” he murmured, his voice light and teasing, though the edge to his grin made your stomach twist.

“He’s joking,” you said, slurring as you waved a hand lazily. “You’re jokinnng, right, Suguru?”

But Suguru’s smile didn’t falter. He leaned closer, his hand resting on the small of your back as he said softly, “Does it sound like I’m joking?”

Your friends erupted into louder laughter, their voices blurring together as your head spun.

“Let’s get you home,” Satoru said brightly, steering you toward the door.

You were too drunk to argue, your body slumping against his as the cool night air hit your face.

“You didn’t have to say that,” you mumbled, your words barely coherent as Suguru helped you into the car.

“Say what?” he asked, sliding in beside you, his voice calm and measured.

“That… we’re dating,” you slurred, your head lolling against Satoru’s shoulder as he climbed in on your other side.

Satoru laughed, his hand ruffling your hair as he pulled you closer. “Oh, come on. It’s not a big deal. Besides, they loved it. Right, Suguru?”

Suguru’s hand brushed lightly against your knee, steady and deliberate. His dark eyes met yours in the dim glow of the streetlights. “Does it bother you?” he asked, his voice soft, almost tender.

You tried to answer, your lips parting, but your mind was too foggy, your tongue too heavy. The alcohol clouded your thoughts, dulling the sharp edges of your confusion and concern. The only sound you managed was a quiet, slurred mumble before sleep tugged at your consciousness.

When you woke up, the world felt too soft, too still.

Your eyes fluttered open, the dim light of early morning filtering through unfamiliar curtains. The silk sheets beneath you were far too luxurious, the plush mattress beneath your body a stark contrast to your usual bed.

You sat up slowly, a pounding headache hammering at your skull as the events of the night before came back to you in blurry flashes. The bar. Your friends. Satoru. Suguru.

And now this.

Waking up in their bed was unexpected.

You winced as the urge to pee hit you, the discomfort pulling you fully awake. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, your bare feet brushing against the cool floor as you prepared to stand. But before you could rise, a hand shot out, gripping your wrist.

The sudden tug sent you back onto the mattress, your heart skipping a beat as you turned to see who it was.

Satoru.

His snowy white hair was messy, his eyes still half-lidded with sleep as he pulled you closer to him, his grip firm but not painful.

“Where are you going?” he mumbled, his voice groggy yet tinged with something along the lines of annoyance.

“I… I need to pee,” you stammered, your voice hoarse as you tried to free yourself from his grasp.

Satoru’s eyes opened fully then, his bright blue gaze locking onto yours. He looked at you for a long moment before his lips curved into a sleepy grin. “Mmm, can’t you wait a little longer? It’s too early to get up.”

The warmth of his body pressed against yours, heavy and unmoving, trapping you in place. His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him, as if he were anchoring you there.

“I’m serious…” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to squirm away, but his grip didn’t loosen.

Instead, you felt his grin against the back of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“Shhh,” he murmured, his voice soft and drowsy but carrying that familiar edge of control. “You’ll wake up Sugu… You can wait.”

The mention of Suguru made you freeze, your eyes darting toward the other side of the bed.

Sure enough, there he was.

Suguru lay on his side, his face calm and serene in sleep, his dark hair spilling over the pillow. His breathing was deep and even, the rise and fall of his chest almost hypnotic.

“You don’t want to wake him, do you?” Satoru hummed, his voice low and teasing, though there was something almost mocking in the way he said it.

You swallowed hard, the weight of the situation settling heavily over you as Satoru’s arms remained firmly around your waist. He shifted slightly, nuzzling into the back of your neck like a contented cat.

“Just relax,” he murmured, his voice already trailing off as sleep pulled him back under.

You lay there, stiff and silent, the dull ache in your bladder forgotten as your mind raced.

The warmth of their bodies on either side of you, the sound of their steady breathing, the oppressive weight of Satoru’s arm around your waist—it was suffocating.

But you didn’t move.

You couldn’t.

Because somewhere deep down, beneath the haze of confusion and discomfort, a single, chilling thought crept into your mind:

They weren’t going to let you go.

And for now, it was easier to stay still. To let Satoru’s grip keep you in place, to let Suguru’s presence loom quietly beside you.

To endure.

Because what other choice did you have?

You waited an hour. Generously. The way your bladder felt like it was going to spill if you even moved an inch made it agonizing, but what else could you do?

Why did I have to drink so much? you thought bitterly, biting your lip to keep yourself from groaning.

“Satoru…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, tinged with a small, desperate whine.

No response.

His soft snores filled the room, and you felt the faintest flutter of hope when you realized his arm had gone slack around your waist. It was loose enough—just enough—that you might be able to slip free without waking him.

Carefully, you began to move, inch by inch.

You winced at the painful, overfull feeling in your bladder, a burning reminder that if you waited even a second longer, you were sure you’d humiliate yourself. The thought of staining such expensive, silken sheets filled you with dread.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you managed to wriggle out of Satoru’s grip. He stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before settling back into his slumber.

You held your breath as you slid off the bed, crossing your legs tightly as you stood. The sensation made you want to scream, but you forced yourself to stay quiet, moving as carefully as you could across the room.

You reached the bathroom door, relief flooding through you as your hand grasped the handle.

But when you turned it, the handle didn’t budge.

It was locked.

Your stomach dropped, a cold wave of panic washing over you as you tried again, jiggling the handle more forcefully this time.

Still locked.

You glanced over your shoulder, your heart pounding as you looked back at the bed. Satoru hadn’t moved, his snores still soft and steady. Suguru remained motionless, his dark hair spilling over his pillow like ink.

You turned back to the door, biting your lip hard enough to sting. Why the hell was it locked?

You tried again, pressing your weight against the door this time, but it wouldn’t give.

Panic began to rise in your chest as you crossed your legs tighter, your body screaming at you for relief. You couldn’t go back to the bed—not now, not like this. You couldn’t face them if something went wrong.

Your bathroom was… across the apartment.

You could make it, right? You just had to waddle your way there.

The thought alone filled you with dread, but what choice did you have? The idea of pissing yourself in your weird roommates’ bedroom—on their luxurious, expensive sheets, no less—was enough to make your face burn with humiliation.

A soft, desperate whine escaped your throat as you shifted your weight. It’s too much.

But you had to try.

You moved carefully, every step a torturous mix of sharp, burning pressure and overwhelming panic. Your breaths came shallow and uneven, your legs trembling as you shuffled forward, praying the noise wouldn’t carry back to the bedroom.

It was just the hallway, the living room, and then the bathroom.

Easy, you told yourself, though the pounding of your heart and the sting of tears in your eyes screamed otherwise.

You barely made it to the end of the hallway before your legs gave out, your body sinking to the cold floor as a sob built in your throat.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, the humiliation of the situation crashing over you like a wave. You couldn’t stop them, hot streaks rolling down your cheeks as you clutched at your stomach, the pressure unbearable.

Why did this have to happen? Why couldn’t the door just unlock? Why couldn’t you have made it just a little farther?

You pressed your forehead against your knees, trying to muffle the soft, broken whimpers escaping your lips. The silence of the apartment felt suffocating, every sound you made echoing in your ears like a cruel reminder of just how trapped you were.

And then, the sound you dreaded most.

Footsteps.

Slow, deliberate, heavy against the hardwood floors.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as the footsteps grew louder, closer.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Suguru’s voice was soft, calm, almost soothing, but it made your stomach twist into knots.

You didn’t lift your head, your body trembling as his presence loomed over you. You could feel his gaze, heavy like he could see straight through you.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, crouching down so he was at eye level with you. His tone was steady, almost kind, but there was an edge to it that made your chest tighten.

“I… I just…” Your voice cracked, the words stumbling over themselves as you tried to think of an excuse, something that wouldn’t make this worse.

Suguru tilted his head, his dark hair falling over his shoulder as his sharp eyes scanned you. “You could’ve just woken me up if you needed something,” he said softly, his lips curving into a small, affectionate smile.

Before you could respond, another voice chimed in.

“She’s crying.”

You flinched at the familiar, teasing lilt of Satoru’s voice, your heart sinking further as you felt him approach.

“Aw, did we scare her?” he teased, his grin audible in his voice as he crouched beside Suguru, his bright blue eyes gleaming with amusement.

“It’s not that,” Suguru murmured, his gaze never leaving you. “She’s upset.”

“Hmm,” Satoru hummed, leaning in closer, his sharp blue eyes gleaming with something that made your chest tighten. “Why’s that, little gator? What’s got you all worked up, huh?”

You wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor and vanish entirely. Anything to escape their piercing stares, the weight of their presence pressing down on you like a cage.

But then, you felt it.

The warmth spreading beneath you, dampening the hardwood floor.

Your breath caught in your throat as the realization struck you like a tidal wave. You’d pissed yourself.

Silent tears trickled down your cheeks, shame and humiliation crashing over you in waves as you dared a glance at Suguru.

His dark eyes flicked down to the wet patch spreading across the floor.

And then he smiled.

Not his usual small, measured smile, but something broader. Something that sent a wave of goosebumps.

Satoru followed Suguru’s gaze, his brows lifting in surprise before his grin widened into something almost predatory. “Well, would you look at that,” he murmured, his tone light and teasing but laced with something darker.

Suguru tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes meeting yours as he spoke.

“Clause 52,” he said softly, his voice calm and steady, like he was reciting something he’d known by heart.

Your stomach knotted further, anxiety pooling. You really should have took time to read the absurdly long lease.

“‘If a roommate is deemed unfit to take care of themselves, it becomes the other parties’ duty to assume full care of the roommate, gaining full autonomy over the party deemed unfit.’”

The words were a death knell, ringing in your ears as your tears fell faster.

“Unfit,” Satoru repeated, his tone dripping with mockery as he leaned closer, his hand gentle as it brushed a tear from your cheek. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think, Suguru?”

Suguru’s smile didn’t falter, his dark eyes steady as his hand came to rest on your trembling shoulder. “It’s not harsh if it’s true,” he replied softly, his voice almost tender, but the weight of his words crushed any chance of denial. “She clearly needs us.”

“I’m fine,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you tried to push away the rising panic. You clung to the last shreds of your dignity, your hands trembling as you tried to wipe your tears. “It was an accident. I just—”

“You just proved you can’t take care of yourself,” Suguru interrupted, his grip tightening slightly, his words cutting through your feeble attempts at an excuse.

Satoru chuckled, leaning against you, his sharp blue eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and something darker. “You know,” he started, his tone almost conversational, “we could have enacted Clause 52 sooner.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes darting to him as he tilted his head, his grin widening.

“I mean, your grades this semester? Not exactly stellar.” He chuckled, shaking his head as if scolding a child. “And let’s not forget that blunt you took from Shoko a few months back. You do know weed is very illegal in Japan, right?”

The blood drained from your face as he spoke, your mind scrambling to keep up with his words.

“Could’ve gone to jail,” Suguru added, his voice calm and matter-of-fact as he straightened, his hand leaving your shoulder only to slide under your legs.

You yelped as he scooped you up effortlessly, your body trembling as you tried to claw away from him, your hands weakly pushing against his chest.

“But a grown woman pissing herself?” Satoru said, standing and shaking his head as he followed Suguru toward the bathroom. “Now that’s a pretty clear sign you need help. I mean, we’d be neglecting you if we didn’t take care of you at this point.”

“Put me down!” you cried, your voice breaking as you struggled against Suguru’s hold, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Shh,” Suguru murmured, his grip unyielding as he carried you down the hall. “You’re only making this harder on yourself.”

Tears blurred your vision as the door to their bathroom came into view, the realization of just how powerless you were sinking in with every step.

Tears blurred your vision as the door to their bathroom came into view, the realization of just how powerless you were sinking in with every step.

“We’ll clean you up,” Satoru said brightly, his grin firmly in place as he swung the bathroom door open. His tone was light and teasing, but the words twisted in your stomach. “That’s what good boyfriends—sorry, roommates—do, right?”

Suguru carried you inside without hesitation, his movements smooth and calculated, like he’d done this a hundred times in his head. He set you down gently on the edge of the bathtub, his hands lingering on your arms as though steadying you. The care in his touch felt unnervingly intimate, blurring lines you hadn’t even realized were being crossed.

“I don’t need—” you started, your voice trembling, but Suguru cut you off.

“Do we need to treat you like a child too?” He hummed as he turned on the water, you noticed Satoru take a spot on the floor, his hand….gravitating to….

You forced yourself to look away. 

Instead pleading to Suguru that you can wash yourself, that he doesn’t need to climb into the tub with you pressing himself behind you. As he grabbed the handheld shower head, changing the settings as he deemed fit as you squirmed and sobbed. 

“Have to clean you now, hm?” He hummed behind you, changing the setting of the handheld shower head to the highest setting, the pressure was too much as you squirmed and clawed at his hands shaking your head. You looked over at Satoru the smile on his face, the way he seemed blissed out as he stroked his…

Oh god. 

They enjoyed this. 

You couldn’t help the whine that escaped you as your cunt clenched onto nothing, as your clit was being tormented by the harsh pressure of the showerhead Suguru had directed. 

“Shhhh, just let go… I got you,” Suguru murmured, his voice low and soothing as he adjusted the spray of water once more, there was purpose in his insistent touches, firm and absolute.

You couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked your body, your tears mixing with the water cascading over your skin. Your mind felt like it was spinning, your thoughts fragmented and overwhelmed by the unbearable mix of sensations and emotions crashing over you.

And then, you reached the peak—your body betraying you, shuddering in his grip as your climax washed over you. Shame burned hot in your chest, your face flushed with humiliation as the sobs came harder, raw and broken.

Suguru’s hand never faltered, his movements steady as he lowered the setting on the showerhead to a gentle spray, hushing you softly as you came down from your high.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his tone almost tender as his hand smoothed over your damp skin. “Just let me take care of you.”

You couldn’t muster the strength to respond, your body trembling as exhaustion began to creep in.

But he wasn’t done.

Before you could catch your breath, Suguru adjusted the water pressure again, the sharp sensation snapping you back into focus as he began once more.

“No, please…” you whimpered, your voice weak and cracking as you squirmed in his hold.

“Shhh,” he hushed you, his lips brushing lightly against your temple as his grip tightened. “You’re fine. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t have the strength to fight him.

Again and again, he pushed you over the edge, your sobs gradually giving way to soft, broken whimpers as your body betrayed you. Your limbs felt heavy, your mind clouded with a haze of exhaustion and humiliation.

By the time he finally relented, your eyes were half-lidded, sleep tugging at the edges of your consciousness.

Satoru, who had been watching the entire time, stood from his spot on the floor, his sharp blue eyes raking over your limp form with a grin that made your stomach twist.

“Since Suguru did a good job cleaning you up, think you can clean my mess?” Satoru’s voice was light, teasing, but the sharp glint in his blue eyes told you there was no room for refusal.

Your head weakly shook in response, your body trembling with exhaustion as you tried to avert your gaze.

But Suguru didn’t let you.

“Be a good girl,” he murmured, his voice calm but firm as his hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face back toward them. His thumb pressed against your lips, prying them open with gentle insistence.

You whimpered, tears welling in your eyes again as his thumb slipped onto your tongue, the weight of his touch heavy and suffocating.

“There you go,” he said softly, almost soothing as though this was something to comfort you. “It’s easier if you don’t fight.”

Before you could protest, Satoru was pressing the tip of his cock onto your tongue, sliding his length down your throat despite your gags as Suguru ensured you wouldn’t bite down, keeping your mouth open.

“Good girl,” Satoru cooed, his voice low and saccharine as he watched you with amusement, the corners of his lips twitching upward as you instinctively flinched. “Be a good little gator, don’t bite”

You couldn’t stop the fresh wave of tears that trickled down your cheeks, your body frozen under the weight of their attention. Every movement felt heavy, every breath labored as you struggled to take the full length down your throat.

Suguru’s dark eyes bore into you, steady and unyielding. “See? You can do this,” he murmured, removing his thumb to help guide your head as you sucked on Satoru’s cock. “You’re already doing so well.”

“Better than I thought she would,” Satoru replied, a soft groan escaped his lips as he tilted his head back, gently rocking his hips forward despite your tears, Suguru was forcing your head to bob on Satoru's length, keeping his touch gentle.

“We’re going to take such good care of you,” Suguru hummed, his voice smooth and steady as his hand’s methodical movements, his dark eyes gazing at you in adornment as you choked on the sticky white ropes that trickled down your throat. 

His words made your stomach twist, but the calmness in his tone—the way it almost sounded affectionate—made it all the more suffocating.

“I think we can work with this arrangement, right?” Suguru murmured, his lips curving into a faint smile as he leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear. His tone was calm, almost soothing, as though this was the most natural thing in the world.

“We love you so much, don’t you know?” he continued, his voice softening further, as if the depth of their love for you was as much a burden for them as it was for you. “We’ll give you time to adjust to the new arrangement. Don’t you worry.”

You flinched, your body trembling from a cocktail of exhaustion and humiliation. The words wrapped around you like a cage, their gentleness only making the weight of them heavier. Your eyes darted toward Satoru, searching desperately for some sign of relief, some thread of normalcy—but his expression only made your stomach twist.

His smile was lovesick, almost dazed, his half-lidded eyes clouded with fatigue, likely from his final exam. Yet his fingers found their way to the top of your head, the touch soft and deliberate, giving you a gentle, almost affectionate pat.

The gesture should have been comforting. It should have eased the tightness in your chest. Instead, it felt like a reminder—a quiet assertion of control, of just how tightly you were bound to them.

“Let’s get you ready for bed, shall we?” Satoru said, his voice light and teasing, laced with his usual carefree charm. But beneath the playful tone, there was an undertone of finality, a quiet edge that made it clear this wasn’t a suggestion.

Suguru’s hands were steady as he adjusted the towel around your body, his touch disarmingly gentle, as though he were savoring the act of caring for you. Each movement was slow, deliberate, as if he were worshipping the process of drying you off. He ensured the towel wrapped around you modestly, yet his fingers lingered just long enough to make you question if there was more to his care.

When he stood, his tall frame towering over you, he extended a hand. His dark eyes met yours, calm and unreadable, as if silently urging you to trust him.

You hesitated. Every instinct screamed at you to pull away, to run, to do something. But the exhaustion weighed you down, rooting you in place. Your legs felt like lead, your thoughts foggy and scattered, a tangle of fear and resignation you couldn’t untangle.

“You’re tired,” Suguru murmured, his voice a soothing balm that did little to ease the tightness in your chest. There was an undercurrent of quiet authority in his tone, one that made resistance feel futile.

His hand enveloped yours, warm and steady, guiding you to your feet before you could summon the strength to protest. “Let us take care of you,” he said softly, the words carrying a tenderness that felt at odds with the unease curling in your stomach.

Satoru was already waiting by the door, leaning casually against the frame. His bright blue eyes watched you with his signature grin—a grin that normally felt harmless but now carried an edge that made your chest tighten. “Come on, little gator,” he cooed, beckoning you with a casual wave. “We’ve got everything ready for you.”

You let them guide you, too drained to resist. Suguru’s hand rested lightly on your lower back, steadying you as Satoru walked ahead, his playful hum filling the quiet hall.

When you finally crawled into the cool sheets, your body sagged into the mattress, the weight of the day pressing down on you. The bath had left your skin warm and your limbs heavy, the overstimulation making it impossible to think straight. Exhaustion was a tide, pulling you under, and for a fleeting moment, you were grateful for the comfort they had so carefully orchestrated.

Perhaps you were too far gone to notice—or to care—about the faint noises behind you. The soft murmur of voices, the rustle of fabric, the low, intimate sound of Satoru’s moan as he lowered himself onto Suguru.

Your mind barely registered it, the sound blurring into the background as sleep took hold. You ignored the quiet gasp, the rhythmic creak of the mattress in the other room, and the muted groan that followed.

The warmth of the blankets, the scent of lavender, the haze of exhaustion—all of it conspired to drag you deeper into unconsciousness, letting the world fade away as your body surrendered to sleep.

[777heavengirl]

Bless the Telephone ; ##02

James Potter x f!muggle!reader

word count: 1,511

warnings: i dont think theres any? lmk...

a/n: :) i hope yall like it, at the rate im pumping these out i might do two updates per week but we'll see how that goes..."

series masterlist

main masterlist

You sighed as you opened the door, the various bags of food, toiletries, clothes, and whatever else you had picked up during the day made your arms feel like they might fall off, cutting into your skin and your circulation. Your fingers had gone numb two stops away from your apartment, you could feel the relief as you dumped half the bags on the kitchen counter. 

You dumped the other half and the backpack that hung heavy across your back in your room. 

“Hey, darling-” your roommate popped her head up from where she lay on the couch, wild curls practically floating around her. “Yer phone’s been ringing nonstop for like an hour-”

You groaned, glancing at the clock briefly while putting your shopping in their rightful places. 

7:30 p.m.

“D’you know who it was?”

“Why would you ever think I’d get up to check?” She popped some chips into her mouth with a laugh

You turned, hands on your hips, a small smirk playing on your lips 

“You mean to tell me you’d rather put up with the ringing than get up?” 

“Yeah- why not? Turn up the telly and boom- can’t even hear a thing mate” She said, smiling from the couch. You couldn’t help but laugh along with her-

The phone rang, not as violent as that morning two days ago, sound muffled by the wall and your closed door. It was loud nonetheless.

Your roommate turned up the volume of the television.

“Talk of the devil!” she screamed through the roaring sound of whatever trashy game show she was watching.

You dragged yourself to your room, closing the door behind you. You could still hear the exaggerated volume of the telly. The phone kept on ringing, the red light angrily flashing at you to go pick it up already-

“Hello?” 

“Where’ve you been?” it was teasing, you wanted to say it was his voice. The mysterious voice on the phone, one Mr James Potter. You weren’t sure. You didn’t know how to feel about it either.

“Who is this?”

“Woah, one day and you’ve already forgotten me- you’re breaking my heart here sweetheart” the voice crackled through the static of the receiver. Oh it was definitely Mr James Potter calling again

“Potter?”

“James- But yes”

“Ah! That one- to what do I owe the pleasure?” You bit your lip slightly, excitement turning in your stomach. You grabbed the base of the phone, moving the machine as close to your bed as the cable would let you, the rest of the stretch between your bed and the telephone could be covered by the curled plastic cord. You sat on the mattress.

“Do you know any other Potters?”

“Just the one- but to be fair, I don't really know you either”

“Mhm… fair enough, I think I only know one other person with your name-”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, nasty woman really- called me daft two days ago,” he said, tone serious as if recounting a deeply wounding moment… you let out a laugh “You wouldn’t believe how rude she was to me”

“Oh was she really? That’s terrible news, maybe it was because you called her— a stranger by the way, at four in the bloody morning”

“You got me, wasn’t on purpose though— you still haven’t answered my question by the way” You could hear that little smirk on his lips again

“What would that be Potter?”

“James- but where were you?”

“What’s it to you? Trying to stalk me or something?” you could feel your heartbeat quicken, 

“I just tried calling earlier-”

“Yeah, my roommate said, the phone rang a ton— were those all you or should I check my messages?”

“I wasn’t sure I was hitting the right number okay? pissed off a few other people too”

“Oh so this is the norm for you-”

“Hey! It isn’t my fault, I just didn’t know how to do the little- you know…” had this guy ever used a phone before? “call the previous number thing- ugh I don’t know what it’s called but whatever I didn’t know how it worked” he huffed

“Potter, are you a ten-year-old boy? Scratch that, my cousin knows how to do that- maybe you are daft”

“If I say yes will you tell me what you were up to?” he said, you laughed again

“I was running some errands, nothing special… why’d you wanna know?” you raised an eyebrow, you curled the cable around your index finger, the rest of the cool plastic wrapping around your hand. 

“Was just wondering…”

A beat.

“I realize now that me calling you back might be strange-”

“You don’t say- only took you about ten minutes of conversation, you didn’t think about that before you called?”

“Not really- my mum says I lack impulse control,”

“I can tell you have zero of that-” 

“she blames Dad but we both know she’s the one I got it from” he chuckled, and you couldn’t help but mirror it. 

“You still haven’t answered my question, Potter-”

“You really not going to call me James?”

“No- I don’t know you-”

“I guess that's fair enough- what was your question?”

“Why’d you call?” he stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, almost as if thinking deeply about your question before his voice broke through the static again.

“Honestly?”

“Obviously-” you retorted, another chuckle left his lips.

“I don’t really know… I don’t really have a reason I just wanted to talk” you mouled over his answer, strange but not bad.

“You don‘t have friends for that already?”

“You’ve never made new friends with complete strangers?”

“Not like this-” you traced a pattern onto your sheets as you spoke, 

“Well, I can be the first! so how old are you?” he sounded giddy “If I say I’m sixty five will you leave me alone?”

“It would be worse- I love old ladies, but they love me immediately so I suspect you aren’t one”

“because I don’t immediately love you?”

“obviously” he mirrored you “I’m twenty-“

“What a coincidence, so am I” you whispered, he heard you nonetheless

You pursed your lips to suppress a smile as James asked questions and explained things about his life that you didn’t ask for. You felt quite silly- talking on the phone with a boy you’d never met, you didn’t know what he looked like, nor if he was really who he said he was.

His tone and his rambles seemed genuine enough, he was a very peculiar boy- talking about how he was mildly scared of the tube but my mate Sirius loved it. 

“Is this Sirius one of the voices I heard last time?”

“Yeah- he asked if you were pretty which looking back might’ve been a little rude”

“Eh- maybe, I’d feel terrible to disappoint him though”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know if he’s expecting some striking supermodel to be answering the phone…” you trailed off slightly, James went quiet “I reckon I’m alright though”

“You’re probably selling yourself short doll,“

“Anyway- what do you do?”

“What do you mean love?”

“Like are you in Uni? or something else?”

“Oh! umm- something else for sure”

“What?”

“What?”

“Potter- like what do you do? you know… with your life”

“I just live? I don’t know- d’you mean like occupationally?”

“Yes occupationally idiot-“

“Okay okay don’t yell at me— you’ll break my little heart babe come on-“ he cleared his throat a couple of times  “I kind of work for my father I guess? What do you do?”

“I go to Uni- I also work at a little coffee shop on weekends… what does your father do?”

“he makes hair potions-“ he said, almost choking on his words. you raised an eyebrow 

“like hair gel and shit?”

“y-yeah that’s what I meant like… conditioners and s-styling… gels… and shit” you laughed out loud, not being able to conceal it this time. a short series of giggles that delighted James ever so slightly. You could hear him get quiet briefly, almost as if he was running out of words “What do you do in this Uni of yours?”

“Administration… not the most thrilling field I fear”

“I’m assuming you’re not the fondest of it then”

“not particularly, but it’ll do… do you like working for your dad?”

“he’s made a ton of money with his products- I’m very proud of him for it… to be honest probably not what I wanted to do with my life but it’s not… difficult, so I can focus on other things, more exciting things so I really can’t complain…” he was about to continue, rambling about the silver linings of it.

you interrupted “What did you want to do?” 

“Pardon?” he asked, 

“With your life James- what did you want to do with your life?” 

You thought he had stayed quiet, maybe thinking, searching for the words until the dial tone rang in your ear— he had hung up. You stared at the phone as you put it back on the base.

Peculiar boy wasn’t he?

tags ; @ilovejamespottersomuch @ravisinghs-wife @hidontmindtheintrovert @stella-thestars @caspiankingofnarnia @lovelyteenagebeard @starkluvrr @hisparentsgallerryy @leilani13gc

permanent tag ; @laufeysvalentine

pls send me an ask if you wanna be added!

[neros-left-pec]

PLAYING INFINITY NIKKI WITH THE DMC MEN

🌷 pairings: dmc men x fem!reader 🌷 warnings/tags: just fluff + probably OOC 🌷 author's note: i have really bad dmc brainrot but ive never even played the games (don't ask how this happened) LOL. i kinda see these as crack hcs since im not actually familiar with their canon personalities but i hope u can enjoy it regardless!

NERO SPARDA

you've been gone for a huge part of the day, so he starts looking around devil may cry for you. he finds you at your desktop looking VERY engrossed with what you're doing

doing his best to not alert you, he sneaks up behind you. it seems a cute video game has caught your attention, and you're playing dress-up...?

"Wait, each power lets her use a new dress? How does she change so fast?"

thinks it's ridiculous at first, but similar to Vergil he gets weirdly addicted to helping you pick the best scoring combinations

unlike Vergil, he is not very good at it. but he will try his best

"Okay okay, go with the lace gloves, TRUST ME. It's tagged as elegance which is what you need."

like dante, he is convinced he knows what he's talking about, but definitely gets pissed every time his outfits don't work out

"What the fuck, this is impossible! I thought this game was for babies!"

no nero, this game is not for babies. you need to lock in.

one day, you surprise him by coming home in an outfit eerily similar to one he had made for you in the game last week.

gets very visibly flustered when he sees you model it.

it suits you incredibly well and is very tailored to his tastes, since, well, he was the one who made the outfit after all!

he saves up a bit of money and takes you on a shopping spree. he must see you in more outfits

YOU GUYS ARE PLAYING DRESS TO IMPRESS IRL!!!!!

side note but i feel like he would go crazy if he saw you wearing black high heels. he loves black on you

DANTE SPARDA

"So it's like dress-up... but with boss fights? Kinda kickass if you ask me."

he tries to help you pick an outfit but always makes the WORST combinations EVER. the outfits colors never match and he makes you wear ugly boots with a pretty dress or something lol

is convinced he is a master fashion designer

"Look at me, I'm adorable as hell!"

not really too interested in the game itself but he likes seeing how into it you get. you get very invested in the story and he finds it adorable. you have a simple heart and he loves you for it

asks you to show off your outfits

"C'mon, spin around. Pose for me, dear! ...Oh yeah that's very nice, I quite like it honestly. You've got some talent, huh?"

sometimes he thinks about how cute you would look in pastels and gets a bit distracted. his brows furrow, a soft blush dusting his cheeks as he hides a smile behind his hand.

with his mouth covered, it actually kinda looks like he's grimacing, which is hilarious. he'll often start daydreaming about you and get flustered. others will see him and think he's pissed off because of the tense expression. if only they knew about the big smile that was hidden behind his hand

VERGIL SPARDA

he does not understand why you are stressing about losing a "style battle," whatever that meant

he stares at your screen with his arms crossed.

"So foolish..." FOOLISHNESS, Y/N. FOOLISHNESS----

watches silently. secretly enjoys watching you get worked up over something so silly

you ask him for styling advice and using the clothing stats, builds you the most min-maxxed outfit for the style battles. quickly learned the numbers have to do with if you win or not. however, he somehow manages to make them also look gorgeous at the same time (IF YOU PLAY INFINITY NIKKI YOU KNOW HOW HARD THIS IS). he does it to make you happy since you hate ugly outfits

after a while, he gets kinda into it

"No, that shade of mauve does not go with the rest of the outfit... Even the most untrained eye would know that a lady's shoes must match with her bag."

YOU STARE AT HIM....

he looks to the side and walks away.

damn him!

secretly makes a note to buy you a cute ensemble to wear to your next date

he will get rid of the price tags and fold them into your drawers so you happen across them

he will never admit he bought it but you know it was him

and of course, he buys you a bag with matching flats/heels depending on your preference :)

[cherbii]

PUDDIN’

ft. Toji Fushiguro

summary -> you called yourself insane for falling in love with the murderous psychopath, until you became like him!

warnings -> Joker!Toji, Harley!Reader, language, violence, murder, graphic murder, dead dove do not eat, smut! p in v, choking, riding, knife play, blood kink. mdni.

The city never slept and neither did you, not with Toji by your side. It started like a fever dream—one second, you were patching up some two-bit gangster in a back-alley clinic, and the next, you were running for your life, blood on your hands, laughter in your throat, and a maniac with the sharpest grin you'd ever seen leading the way.

Toji Fushiguro wasn't just trouble; he was the whole damn apocalypse wrapped in a leather jacket and bad intentions. And you were the idiot who fell for it. The night you met, the sky bled neon, rain slicking the pavement as sirens screamed in the distance.

You should've gone home early, should've ignored the desperate pounding at the clinic door, should've known that a man who smiled through a bullet wound wasn't normal. But Toji waltzed in like the devil himself, bleeding from his side, grinning like he'd won the jackpot, and you—stupid, stupid you—had let him sit on your operating table like he owned the place.

"Yer a real doctor or just playin' dress-up?" he asked, voice all gravel and amusement as he peeled off his soaked jacket.

You glared at him, snapping on a pair of gloves. "You wanna keep running your mouth or actually get patched up?"

His laugh was low, like he was in on a joke you hadn't heard yet. "I like you already, doc."

That was the beginning of the end. You should have kicked him out, let him deal with his mess alone, but there was something in the way he watched you, eyes sharp despite the blood soaking through his shirt. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't even pissed off.

He looked entertained, like he was sitting front row at some twisted comedy act, and you had just become his favorite part. You told yourself you were just doing your job when you pressed the gauze to his wound, when you stitched him up despite the way his muscles tensed under your fingers, despite the way his smirk never wavered.

"You get shot often, or am I just lucky tonight?" you muttered, cutting the thread with more force than necessary.

Toji grinned wider. "Wouldn't call it luck, puddin’. But yeah, I get into trouble now and then." The words were barely out of his mouth before the clinic lights flickered, a sign that the building's shitty wiring wasn't the only thing malfunctioning tonight.

Your stomach twisted, and you turned toward the door, but Toji was faster. He grabbed your wrist, pulled you close, his breath warm against your ear. "Yer gonna wanna duck."

Glass shattered as bullets tore through the front window, shelves exploding as medical supplies rained down. You hit the ground hard, heart slamming against your ribs, ears ringing from the gunfire. Toji barely flinched.

He crouched next to you, reaching into his boot and pulling out a knife like this was just another Tuesday night. "Hope ya don't mind a little mess, doc."

You should have screamed, should have run, should have done anything but what you actually did—grin. Adrenaline surged through you, drowning out the panic, replacing it with something hotter, something reckless. "You gonna take 'em out or just sit here bleeding all over my floor?"

Toji barked out a laugh. "Knew I liked ya." The next few minutes were chaos. He moved like a phantom, slipping through the clinic, cutting through the gunmen like they were made of paper.

You barely had time to breathe before the last body hit the floor, blood pooling across the linoleum.

Toji stood in the middle of it, panting, covered in red that wasn't his, eyes gleaming as he turned back to you. "Ya got a car?"

You swallowed hard, ignoring the way your pulse thrummed in your throat. "Out back."

"Then let's get the hell outta here." You didn't know why you followed him. Maybe it was the rush, the sheer insanity of it all, or maybe it was the way he looked at you, like you were something special, something rare. Whatever it was, it had you gripping the wheel too tight as you sped through the city,

Toji lounging in the passenger seat like he hadn't just turned your entire life upside down. "You always this much trouble?" you asked, eyes flicking to him.

He smirked. "Only when I'm having fun." You should have dropped him off, left him to his own devices, but when he told you to take a left instead of a right, you didn't argue. When he led you into a crumbling warehouse, you didn't hesitate.

And when he pulled you close, fingers curling under your chin, tilting your face up to his, you didn't pull away. "Ya scared?" He murmured, his breath warm against your lips.

You weren't. You should have been, but you weren't. You stared into the madness in his eyes and felt something snap inside you, something that had been wound too tight for too long. "No."

Toji grinned, and then he kissed you, and you knew right then and there—you were never getting out of this alive. You didn't go home that night. You barely even thought about it. There was blood on your clothes, dried in your hair, smeared across your face, but you didn't care.

Toji tasted like gunpowder and adrenaline, like cigarettes and laughter, like pure fucking danger, and you wanted more. His hands were rough as they slid up your back, pulling you closer, pressing you against him like he wanted to burn you into his skin.

The warehouse was dark, reeking of oil and metal, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the heat between you, the way he groaned against your lips, the way your fingers fisted in his jacket, refusing to let go.

You didn't know what the hell you were doing. You weren't stupid—you knew what Toji was, knew what kind of man he had to be to smile through gunfire, to cut a man's throat without blinking. He wasn't just dangerous. He was the kind of dangerous that didn't stop, that didn't slow down, that didn't care who got caught in the wreckage.

And now you were standing in the middle of it, grinning like a goddamn lunatic. He pulled away first, chuckling low in his throat, resting his forehead against yours like he was catching his breath. "Yer somethin' else, doc."

You smirked, feeling high, feeling invincible. "You don't even know my name."

He laughed, like that was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "Like it matters. Yer mine now."

You should have argued, should have pushed him away, should have told him that you didn't belong to anyone, but the words never left your mouth. Maybe because you knew he was right. The next few days were a blur. You didn't go back to the clinic.

There was no point. It was trashed beyond repair, and even if it wasn't, you had bigger problems. Whoever had shot up the place wasn't done looking for Toji, which meant they were looking for you now, too. Not that he seemed concerned. If anything, he was having the time of his life.

You spent your nights in shitty motels, cheap hideouts, places where the walls were thin, and the sheets smelled like cigarette smoke. Toji kept a gun under his pillow, a knife in his boot, a grin on his face like the world was just one big game, and he was the only one who knew the rules.

You should have been scared. You weren't. You learned fast—how to move, how to blend in, how to keep your head down when Toji told you to. You learnt that he didn't trust anyone, that he didn't give a damn about the people he worked for, that the only thing keeping him entertained was the rush, the thrill, the chaos.

And you learnt that you were just as bad as him. The first time you shot someone, he didn't look surprised. You had been cornered in an alley, some lowlife with a knife thinking he could take you out while Toji was busy inside. You didn't hesitate. You pulled the trigger, watched the guy crumple, felt your pulse hammering as the gun shook in your hands. Toji stepped out of the shadows, hands in his pockets, head tilted as he looked at you.

Then he grinned. "Knew ya had it in ya."

You laughed, breathless, wiping the blood off your cheek. "You gonna stand there all night or help me clean this up?"

His grin widened. "Fuck, I love ya, puddin’." You should have run. Should have turned around, walked away, found some way to salvage your life before it was too late. But instead, you laughed again, shoving the gun into his hands.

"Then help me hide the body, asshole." That was the moment you realised there was no turning back. You didn't regret it. Not that night, not the next, not even when the bodies piled up and the blood never really washed off. Toji made everything feel like a game, like you were two kids running wild through a playground made of crime scenes and getaway cars, and you loved it.

You loved the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing in the world that could keep up with him. You loved the way he laughed when things got messy, when bullets flew past your head and you didn't flinch. You loved the way he kissed you after a job, rough and desperate, like he needed you more than air.

The city turned into your playground. You ran through the streets like you owned them, your names whispered in alleyways, your faces printed on grainy security footage.

Toji took you to places you'd never dared to go before—underground fights where men twice his size (if that was even possible) went down in seconds, smoky bars where deals were made with a handshake and a threat, rooftops where you could see the whole city stretched out beneath you like a feast.

"Think we'll make it outta this alive?" You asked one night, sitting on the edge of a high-rise, feet dangling over the city lights.

Toji smirked, lighting a cigarette, the flame casting shadows across his sharp features. "Alive? Sure. Clean? Not a chance."

You grinned, stealing the cigarette from his lips, taking a slow drag. "Wouldn't want it any other way." He watched you, something dark and amused in his eyes, then pulled you onto his lap, crushing his mouth against yours. But not every night was golden. Not every escape was clean.

The first time Toji got caught, it wasn't by the cops. It was worse. You were holed up in a motel, licking your wounds from a job gone sideways, when the door burst open. No warning, no time to react—just a flash of movement, a crack of gunfire, and Toji hitting the ground.

You screamed his name, lunged for the gun on the nightstand, but a boot slammed into your chest, pinning you against the wall. "Cute," a voice sneered. "Think she's got teeth."

You looked up, vision blurring with rage. Three of them. Suit-and-tie types, but their eyes were dead. Professionals. The one pinning you down leaned closer, smiling like he was picking apart a meal.

"You know who your boyfriend pissed off, sweetheart?" Your fingers curled around the gun.

"Not enough people, apparently."

His grin widened. "Oh, I like you." Then he slammed the butt of his pistol into your skull, and everything went black. You woke up tied to a chair.

Toji was across from you, blood dripping from a cut above his eye, arms straining against the ropes. He was grinning.

"Oh, this is gonna be fun," the men surrounding you weren't smiling. The leader crouched in front of you, tilting your chin up with the barrel of his gun. "You're gonna tell me everything your boyfriend's been up to."

You spat blood onto his shoes. "Go to hell."

He sighed. "Ladies first." Then he turned the gun on Toji. And you lost your goddamn mind.

"Touch him, and I'll rip your throat out with my teeth." The man chuckled, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Wariness. Good. You weren't just some scared little girl. You were fire and glass and blood, and if they thought you'd break, they were dead wrong.

Toji licked the blood from his lips, watching you like you were his favorite movie. "Ain't she somethin'?" He drawled, voice all lazy amusement. "My puddin' sure knows how to make an entrance."

The leader rolled his eyes, pressing the gun to Toji's temple. "Last chance, sweetheart. Talk, or lover boy gets a bullet in the brain."

You grinned, teeth red. "You shoot him, and you'll never find the money." That got his attention. He hesitated, just for a second, but it was all Toji needed.

The ropes snapped. Everything went red. The chaos of the night had left both of you breathless, blood staining the air and sticking to your skin.

Toji sat across from you, leaning back against the wall, eyes still alive with that same wild spark as ever. His shirt was torn, his skin covered in bruises, and blood—his blood—was smeared at the corner of his lips.

You couldn't tear your gaze away from the sight. Something about the mess, the violence, the way he wore it all like a badge of honor, stirred something deep inside you.

You slowly reached toward him, your fingers hovering just above the blood at the edge of his mouth. He didn't move, didn't flinch. Instead, he watched you with that ever-present smirk, as if daring you to do it.

Your thumb brushed against his lips, smearing the blood further across his skin, until it formed the outline of a twisted smile.

"There," you said softly, watching the blood mix with his grin. "Now you look like you're really enjoyin' yourself." The playfulness in your voice was a front, hiding the heat rising between you both.

His eyes seemed devoid of light as you continued, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You know, puddin'," Toji muttered, his voice low and gravelly, "You're even more dangerous when you look like that."

You didn't say anything. Instead, you leant in closer, your lips brushing his jaw before slowly moving to the blood on his mouth, tasting it.

He inhaled sharply, his hand snapping to your wrist, stopping you for just a moment. "You're playin' a real fucking dangerous game, sweetheart."

You could feel the tension building, the unspoken words between you two hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. But before he could say another word, you pressed your lips to his, your hands slipping into his hair, pulling him toward you with a hunger that matched his own.

Toji groaned into the kiss, his grip on you tightening. Toji's lips were rough against yours, his hands gripping you tightly as if he couldn't get enough. The kiss was hungry, both of you fighting for control, but neither of you willing to give up an inch.

His body pressed against yours, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, his muscles tense as his hands roamed over you. He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, and for a moment, everything else disappeared.

Toji pulled back just enough to look at you, his breathing heavy. "You're really not making this easy." He muttered, his hands still on your body. His eyes were dark, focused only on you.

You didn't care. You tugged at his shirt, needing to feel his skin, to feel the heat between you. You both worked in silence, each of you getting lost in the need to be closer, to lose yourselves in each other.

When you finally managed to get his shirt off, you ran your hands over his chest, feeling the strong muscles beneath your fingertips. He let out a quiet curse, his hands moving to your back, pulling you even tighter against him.

"Shit.” Toji murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, feeling the thrill of his touch as his lips left a trail of heat along your skin. You didn't need words, not now. The tension between you was enough.

You grunted, slipping a hand back up into his hair, tugging harshly on the black strands to rip his head away. “Let me ride you, ‘Ji.”

“Fuck, puddin’. Gonna go dumb on the cock? Hell yeah.” He grabbed at your waist, tugging you towards the springy bed, almost tripping over bloodied limbs before he fell down, you bouncing on top of him before you shifted to straddle his lap.

It was a sight to see; a maniac beneath you, blood smeared at his lips and a wild look in his eyes. Yeah, you’d happily let this man ruin you.

Toji growled as you hurriedly went to rip your shorts off, eager to see you bare. His hand slithered to your cunt, pushing past the fabric of your panties to feel your warm slick.

“So fucking wet. Did killing get her wet? Fucking slut.” He chuckled, trailing his fingers up your torso until they found your pulse, squeezing at your neck.

“Says the ones who’s so fucking hard.” You mumbled, moaning out as your throat began to mechanically constrict.

“It’s what ya do to me, puddin’. Gonna show yer leaky pussy exactly what ya do t’me.” He snarled, curling his fingers, cutting off your air supply.

Toji couldn’t help but feel his cock twitch at the sight of you gasping for hair, eagerly reaching with his other hand, to his pants, tugging them until his cock sprung free.

“Ji…can’t fucking…breathe.” You wheezed, though your cunt pulsed and leaked into your panties.

“Yeah, yeah. I hear ya, quit yapping.” Toji murmured, releasing your neck and sliding his fingers up until he shoved them past your lips, forcing you to suck them clean.

His free hand went to your panties and tugged them carelessly to the side. Toji wasn’t a man of pleasantries, not now, not when you’re dripping onto his balls.

“Lift yer hips. Good fucking girl.” He said, grabbing his cock to guide it to your hole.

You both groaned out, albeit yours muffled, as you sunk down on his length. You leant forward to plant your hands on Toji’s hard pecs, using it as leverage before you raised your hips and slammed them back down in a repeated manner, whining every time his fat tip would nudge at that one spot inside you.

“God, this pussy is to die for,” Toji groaned, fingers dropping from your lips, coated in your saliva. “Gonna fucking murder me with how she’s squeezing my dick.”

Your lips fell open, panting Toji’s name. Fingers curling into his skin. “Love this dick—hah—could kill for it.”

“Rest easy, puddin’. Is all fucking yours. Shit, all yours.”

You didn’t miss the way Toji sent you a smirk, cheeks pulling at the dried blood on his face, the sight made your heart and cunt convulse.

It wasn’t long before you felt a burn in your thighs and lower back, stamina wearing thin. “‘J-‘Ji, ‘m tired. I can’t continue.” You whined, giving the man your best pleading expression.

“Yes, ya fucking can, and will.” Toji grunted, digging into his pockets and pulling out a butterfly knife.

He twisted his wrist, the blade whipped out before the sharp point was pressing at your throat.

“Keep up the pace or I draw blood.”

That was new, Toji never threatened you. Ever. You were his precious, porcelain (murderous) doll he paraded around town, yet it did something to you. Toji smirked when he felt you clench around him

So with a sound something between a whine and moan, you kept bouncing on his cock. Wet sounds filled the room, and so did your whines and moans.

“There we go, see, all ya needed was some motivation. Got ya moving real good f’me. Fuck.” Toji praised, tempted to push the blade into your skin nonetheless.

Your hips stuttered, pace falling behind. You hoped Toji didn’t notice, but of course he did. You whimpered as the blade made a small cut, red pebbling at the small incision he made.

Toji didn’t stop there, he pressed deeper and deeper, not enough to kill you, God, he’d never, but enough until the crimson dribbled down your skin, some onto the knife, most crawling to your collar and breasts.

Toji audibly groaned at the sight, moving the blade to his lips, tongue farting out to taste you. “Fucking hell, puddin’. Yer just as sweet as your blood.”

His words set a flame alight in your tummy. It grew bigger and bigger, until you could no longer contain it. “Fuck! Need to cum, gotta cum!”

“Cum for me, puddin’. Atta-fucking-girl.”

That was it, like a bucket tipping over, you came, hard. Toes curling, eyes rolling, mouth drooling.

“Shit. Fuck, puddin’. Gonna stuff this pussy full of my cum. Have psychotic children with the love of my fucking life. Aw, fuck.” Toji’s teeth clenched together as he spilled ribbons to ropes of his cum inside your cunt.

His hips jumped, and twitched before they stilled. You were panting by the time he was done, a little sweaty too, before you collapsed onto him.

“I got ya.” Toji murmured, wrapping his arms around while his head buried itself in the crook of your neck. You shivered when his tongue struck out and lapped at the cut.

The moment was tranquil, by your definition. Serene, peaceful, perfect.

Until there was a banging to the door, so loud you thought it was going to rip off its hinges. “This is police, open up!”

“Well, waddaya say, puddin’? Ready to kill some motha-fuckers?”

“As ready as you are.”

[wishfuldivine]

Gaz getting his neck licked by Ghost?

He was out training the recruits. The weather was piss poor. Absolutely hotter than the fucking devil's ass crack and it was beginning to make everyone want to drench themselves in cold water or worse, die.

The new batch of meat had arrived a couple of days ago, and Price had so humbly given him the order for this duty.

'Take them under your wings, Gaz.'

And now, here he was. Sweating buckets while having to teach these amateurs how to get it done.

They have been going for more than an hour now, when he finally decided to take pity on their souls. After all, he understood how it could be. He had been a rookie once.

"Alright! It's a ten minute break and then we're back at it! Don't want to carry your ass to medical for passing out."

He saw how they all sighed in relief and hurried to hydrate themselves under the nice shaded area. A small snort escaped him when some dropped down dramatically in hopes of resting.

"Holdin' on well, Garrick?"

He raised a brow and turned to look at the lieutenant. Sometimes, he wondered how the fuck is it that Ghost never melted under that mask and uniform. It left him completely perplexed. But then, he dismisses it by Ghost just being Ghost.

"Better than Cap, that's for sure." He answered with amusement. His beautiful brown eyes twinkled along.

"Here, came to give you this."

He looked down and hummed. It was his sacred tumbler. It is more than likely filled with fresh cold water.

"Appreciate it, mate."

He opened it up and took very long sips. The cold water went down his throat like heaven. He moaned lightly at that.

He continued without giving a shit that some had spilled on his lips, to his chin, and finally down to his neck.

It wasn't until he finished and was about to wipe himself off with his hand when a gloved hand stopped him and then felt a tongue on his neck.

His eyes widened. Ghost was licking his neck. The lieutenant was licking his neck. He gasped lightly at that since it was absolutely unexpected.

And just as fast as it came, it was gone. His cheeks burned and not due to the disgusting weather.

"There we go, lad. See you later. You already know where."

He immediately composed himself, cleared his throat, and nodded. A small smirk appeared on his lips.

It was going to be a wild night.

[azialways]

write me like you love me

Ronin x reader

cw: post canon events, canon plot, breaking in, crowbar, suggestive content, a very touchy ronin

It was yet another uneventful day for Y/N, her boyfriend was gone doing god knows what; probably murder. The European killers were asleep, so that left Angel and Misaki to talk to. Angel was busy with her own stuff, so it left Misaki and Y/N on call to gossip and shit talk. The two enjoyed their gossip sessions while Y/N would work on their story, it was routine, almost.

“And so yeah, basically this guy would not stay still for the life of him! I swear he had ADHD or something…but eventually he stopped for a split second to tie his shoe, so I got him, BUT DAMN I WAS WORRIED ABOUT MY LACK OF MONEY.” Misaki ranted, while Y/N typed up some more of their writing.

They began to talk about Ronin, well the character that in sorts represented him…his annoying charm, his personality, the flirtatious nature of his character…everything that pissed them off in a way that made them realize how in love they were.

“Dude. Earth to Y/N.” Misaki spoke, taking Y/N out of their trance.

“Shit, my bad, What did you ask?” They asked, switching to the server tab.

“I said, spill the beans on you and Ronin. We obviously know you’re together since you dropped it on vday, but how is it going?” They asked, adjusting their position in their bed.

“Ouhhh, yeah it’s good. He's essentially the same as he is on the server, just touchier and more flirty slash cocky slash annoying…but he’s great, really sweet surprisingly. considering all the shit he gave me before.” They chuckled, recalling how Ronin would call them out and mess around with them.

It still partially pissed Y/N off that Ronin was playing with them at first, even if he’s apologized over and over. However, he made up for it by being a pretty okay boyfriend. They continued to write down ideas on their document, generating ways to represent Ronin accurately without blowing his cover, obviously. Not that they planned on making the characters the exact same, hell, the only similarity between the two are the cocky, flirty personalities, which isn’t unique.

“So how do you think I can represent Ronin best without it actually being him?” Y/N asked, thinking out loud.

“Being a cocky, flirty asshole?”

“That’s a lot of guys, Misaki.”

“Shit you’re right. Gotta make him unique.” They chuckled, crossing their legs in a butterfly pose. “Uhh, make him obsessed with the word “darling” and give him religious trauma.”

“Genius!”

“Talkin ‘bout me?” A voice spoke from the direction of her window. Not again.

“Babe, how many times do I have to say this: stop coming in through my window! You have a copy of my key, use the front door.” Y/N groaned, grabbing his hand and squeezing the life out of it.

“He does this frequently?” Misaki asked, looking confused at the camera display of Ronin with a crowbar and disheveled from climbing.

“Unfortunately. Call you back Mis?” Y/N asked and Misaki nodded, hanging up and leaving them to each other.

“Also, little warning when you’re visiting next time? I look like shit.” Y/N sighed, sitting back on their office chair.

“Darlin’ I think you look divine…wearing my shirt and some short ass shorts…fuck baby…” He groaned, his arms wrapped around their waist as he brought them closer, their back on his chest….his mouth right above their neck, breathing down and making the tiny hairs stand up.

“mmm you can work on that later, be with me, with your devil.” He kissed a spot on their neck gently.

“Mmhm-baby it’s your section, the part where you come in.” They explained, and that got his attention; because he came up from his spot in their neck.

“Oh? What are you writing? Something flattering I hope…”

“Well I’m currently trying to find a way to not expose you and get your ass thrown on death row, so yknow.” They responded, chucking self depricationally. They wouldn’t know what they’d do if they accidentally got Ronin thrown on death row. He was a wanted man after all, alas, nobody knew his identity except for the server, but they wanted him represented somehow.

“Mmm, should I just make him a cocky emo boy with a love for the word darling?” They suggested, turning to face him. All he did was bark out a laugh.

“hah! good one. though, I do think that’s accurate. As long as you also make him love a crowbar…and maybe rip out the main character’s aorta at the end?” He suggested, his hands resting on their hips. His eyes batted teasingly, as if begging them to put it in the book.

“i’ll think about it. would make for a romantic ending…a story about a girl falling in love with a guy who was secretly a serial killer, who’s loosely based off of you.”

“But you were the one in secret…we weren’t hiding as serial killers, you were hiding as the writer.” He added, pointing out the inaccuracy.

“Well yeah but i’m not trying to give the media any ideas about you guys’ existence.” They chuckled, their hand going up his arm.

“I guess, cause if not, I’d have to kill you.” He whispered, kissing a spot on his neck.

“You said you were gonna do that months ago, and where are we now?” They teased him, their hand on his cheek.

“A moment of temporary weakness. How do I resist someone as charming as you, my writer darling?” He chuckled, knowing they had mixed feelings about that nickname.

“Just darling works fine, Ro.” Y/N ruffled his hair, sitting on the bed. He followed, sitting down next to him. They rested their head on his shoulder, placing a soft kiss on his jaw.

“Love you, psycho.”

“Awh, Psycho? Keep talking dirty baby.” He teased, his arm wrapping around their waist, pulling them closer.

“God, you’re such a whore sometimes.”

“Only for you, darling.” He kissed the top of their head.

“Aren’t I a special one?” Y/N teased, then yelped softly as Ronin grabbed them by the waist and pulled them onto his lap, straddling him.

“I missed you, yknow? All. of you.” He spoke, a hint of yearning in his eyes. He did miss Y/N, they could tell. The look in his eyes, the way he spoke so tenderly…it was the look of a man in love. He loved Y/N like he loved his crowbar, maybe even more. He’d never explicitly say it, but they knew it was the truth.

His hands snuck under their shirt, feeling the soft, warm skin under the fabric. It made Y/N shudder at the sudden contact. Their arms found their way around his neck, holding themself up.

“Hey gorgeous.” He spoke, his voice barely above a whisper as he leaned in.

“Hi baby.” They responded, leaning in to him. Their lips were millimeters away, the ghost of his breath on Y/N’s lips as he tenderly closed that gap. Their lips moved together in a tender harmony, one that spoke to the love they shared. They pulled away, a string of saliva connecting them, their breathing slowly quickening as Ronin went back in for another kiss. This time, it was a lot more passionate and aggressive. Lips on teeth, and teeth on teeth. One thing about Ronin, he bites. He bites and marks like a madman. He liked people knowing who he loved, and Y/N loved it.

Ronin pulled away, just to dive into their neck. Y/N tilted their head so he had better access, but he also used his hands to make it happen. His hand was in their hair, pulling it back so he had his space. That earned a moan out of them, and another when he nibbled at that sensitive spot he knew they liked.

“Goddamn it…R-Ronin-fuck baby.” They moaned, whimpering from the constant sensitive stimulation.

“There’s no god here darlin’, just your devil,” He sneered, grabbing the back of their head and pushing it back a bit.

“And if you have requests, I'd gladly voice them.”

God it made them so horny to think about the options, the possibilities they could do. Ronin had barely any limits, he’d cut them up if asked… he wasn’t into anything too crazy, but he was generally open. As long as he had his share of Y/N, to worship their body and love them…he didn’t care.

And fucking hell, they loved that about Ronin Beaufort.

[yandereheathen]

The Cost of Protection [Yandere elf guard x Fem Reader] 18+ Chapter #2

Hoi! Hasn't it been forever? I got the bug again for this boy, and I think maybe Korm :> a little part #2, and I have #3 in the making for later this week! Thank you for all the asks. You are the people I wanted to make this for! approx 1,570 words Warnings: Non-con/kissing/ some violence, obsessive treatment, death threats. As always, I do not endorse relationships like this. It is just for fun! Please do not read in a rough state of mind.

A bitter chill clung to Barovia as you stepped out from your tavern, coin pouch clasped tightly in hand. Hope was scarce in these lands, but you held onto the thought of escaping Maverick’s grasp, even if it was just for a few hours of peace. The market streets were eerie in the early morning light, deserted but for a few drifting souls, hollow-eyed and battered by the bleakness of life under Strahd’s rule. You made your way to the stalls, intending to pick up a few supplies, something fresh and maybe something to brighten up the tavern. Your hand was already reaching for the vendor’s apples when you felt a rough tug at your waist, and before you could react, your coin pouch was gone. You spun around, catching sight of the thief’s shadow darting around a corner. “Stop! Come back here!” you yelled, but your voice barely echoed in the empty streets, swallowed by the mist and despair that never lifted in Barovia. Swallowing your pride, you made your way to the nearest guard post. Two Barovian guards lounged by the door, their eyes cold and bored as they watched your approach. You took a breath, trying to calm your nerves before speaking.

“Please, I need help,” you began, voice barely above a whisper, as though saying it louder would make the shame sting more. One guard sneered, his gaze sliding over you with disdain and dark interest. He stepped closer, grabbing the fabric of your shirt between his rough fingers and pulling you nearer, his breath hot against your cheek. “I can think of a way you might earn some help, sweetheart,” he murmured, his grin twisting with something sinister. Before you could protest, the second guard nudged him with a sigh. “Nah, she’s Maverick’s girl,” he muttered, giving you an appraising look. “He’ll be pissed if we touch her. Go crawl back to him if you want help so bad.” They shoved you off, sending you stumbling back a step as they laughed, their voices fading into the mist. Gritting your teeth, you stomped your foot in frustration. “Bastards,” you spat under your breath. Straightening your shirt, you tried to collect yourself, brushing off their words as you turned back toward your tavern. Back inside, you searched through your small collection of trinkets, fingers grazing over rings and pendants, hoping you’d stashed away enough to sell and make up for the lost coins. But just as you reached into the drawer, you felt a cold sensation on your thigh—the hilt of a sword lifting the edge of your skirt. “Hmm… black today,” a familiar, chilling voice purred from behind. “Trying to shut someone out?” You jumped, spinning around, pressing yourself against the wall as your heart hammered in your chest. There he was, Maverick, still in his guard uniform, looking every bit the devil with that smirk across his face. “I heard you had some trouble today, little bunny.” His voice was low, dripping with mock sympathy, as he set down a small pouch on the table beside you. Your pouch—the one that had been stolen. But now, it was splattered with minor, fresh stains of blood. “A gift,” he purred, drawing closer, his golden eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction. Before you could respond, his arms closed around you, trapping you in an iron embrace. You tried to twist away, hands pushing at his chest, but his grip was unyielding. “Please… let go,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your neck. “No,” he replied, voice heavy with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. His teeth sank into your shoulder, the sharp pain blossoming as you felt his teeth break the skin. You screamed, the sound filling the small room as blood seeped from the wound, trailing down your chest in warm rivulets. He groaned, his breath hitching with sick satisfaction as he licked the blood from your skin, his hold tightening, crushing you against him. You struggled, pushing, desperate to escape, but his grip grew firmer, his amusement rumbling against your skin. He pulled back, his face inches from yours, a twisted smile playing on his bloodstained lips. “Remember this, little bunny,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost affectionate. “You’re mine. No one else is allowed to touch you, help you, or save you. You belong to me.”

Maverick’s fingers grazed over your collarbone, the roughness of his touch stark against the soft skin he’d just marred. His gaze bore into yours, a wicked satisfaction glinting in those golden eyes, watching for every hint of your reaction. You held your breath, your pulse racing as he drew closer, his lips brushing your jawline, his voice a low whisper. “Do you understand, little bunny?” he murmured, his tone carrying an unsettling gentleness that only heightened your discomfort. You clenched your fists, refusing to give in to the sway of his words. Your body tensed as you pushed against him, struggling to twist out of his grasp. But he didn’t budge, his hand pressing against the small of your back, holding you in place with an ease that both frustrated and frightened you. “Stop fighting me,” he purred, his voice soft but commanding, his hand slipping from your back to trace the curve of your hip. You squirmed under his grip, a fierce glare on your face as you met his eyes. “Let go of me,” you hissed, anger masking the flickers of betrayal that your body was beginning to reveal. Heat rose to your skin as his touch lingered, his fingers pressing into you with a possessive intensity that sent unwanted shivers down your spine. You fought the reaction, the betrayal of your body, the way your skin seemed to tingle under his touch despite every protest in your mind. “Why must you resist?” he murmured, pressing his lips to the hollow of your throat, slow and deliberate, savoring every inch of hesitation and rebellion in your stance. His hands traced down, capturing your wrists, pinning them against the wall beside your head, his face mere inches from yours. “Don’t pretend you don’t feel it,” he whispered, his breath hot against your cheek. His grip tightened, pulling you closer until there was no space between you. Every inch of your body seemed to betray you, the warmth of his touch igniting sensations you’d instead have denied, your pulse quickening even as you struggled to pull away. He leaned in, his mouth ghosting over your ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers along your skin. “You’re mine,” he said again, his voice soft but unyielding. His hand moved, tracing the lines of your body with a dark reverence, savoring the tension, the resistance, the way your breath caught with every touch. You fought the sensations, the rebellion in your mind conflicting with the stir of warmth spreading through you, your body’s involuntary response only fueling the twisted satisfaction in his gaze. He leaned closer, his hands trailing down your sides, his touch both rough and reverent, as if claiming each part of you with a dark insistence. “See, even your body understands,” he murmured, his fingers pressing into you with deliberate slowness, his gaze never leaving yours. Despite every struggle and protest, you couldn’t deny how your pulse raced under his touch, the heat rising against your will. He grinned, having enough, and pushed you down, falling to your ass when he had you mesmerized. “Now. Show me how thankful you are, bunny, for me helping you.” the fabric on his pants was rough and slightly dirty from the mud as your cheek was rubbed with this clothed cock. He lets out a shivering moan. “so soft…but I want to feel something softer.”

You start shaking and crying as you feel his veins and skin sliding in and out of your mouth, young and then lips in a popping noise. He is not as gentle as when he first started clear. A need inside him was burning, screaming to get out, and your mouth would take the punishment of it. Every thrust of your head bounced painfully at the wall, you let out a cry, and he gets rougher now, grabbing your hair and dragging you back and forth. The worst part is. Not that you can’t breathe. Not the pain in your head. But the warm, dizzy feeling in your head and the…warmth dripping on your legs. The room spun, fear blurring your vision as his words sank in, the weight of your captivity closing in, suffocating and inescapable as you felt his cum down your throat. "Mine"

[sc0tters]

Misconceptions and Confrontations | Jack Hughes

summary: you and Jack had never gotten on with each other but as Quinn’s best friend you were always at the lake house. So what happens when Jack thinks that there is something going on with you and Trevor?

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, fingering, swearing, use of y/n once.

word count: 2.7k

authors note: I came up with this idea at like 3 in the morning so that’s when half of it was written. I wasn’t even halfway through writing this when someone requested a different Jack smut but I liked this way too much to delete it. So there’s another one coming soon!

pt 2 | pt 3

You wouldn't sleep with him if he was the last man on earth.

Jack had practically been your archenemy since you were seven and he was six. It was that moment that he yanked at your pigtail pulling you off of the swing on the playset that you two were destined to never get along.

Funnily enough it was that same moment when Quinn helped you up that set you two on the path to being best friends.

Now Jack was 22 and you were 23 and neither one of you seemed to have any intentions on beginning to like each other any time soon.

Your relationship didn't improve when you went off to college and he went off to the development team, in fact, it seemed that now Jack only getting the time you spent together during the summers his attempts at irritating you increased tenfold.

You didn't know how a family as amazing as the Hughes' could land up with the devils spawn as a child especially when the other two were good normal people. But nevertheless you always had to remain civil with the boy for the sake of your relationship with Quinn and for your mother's relationship with Ellen.

The two moms swore three years into their eldest children's friendship that the duo would get together. It took two months after the swing incident for you two to be practically attached by the hip. Everyone just assumed that Jack had a crush on you and that's why he was acting in that way to you, the real truth though was that he simply enjoyed pissing you off.

He loved the way he was almost always guaranteed a reaction from you, even if it was the smirk that you'd send him as you would watch Quinn shut his bedroom door in his brothers face.

The Hughes family lake house was the only place you willingly went each year even when you knew that Jack was going to be there too.

This year however and much to Jacks dismay you found yourself flirting with Trevor on more than one occasion.

Trevor had been notorious for flirting with you at the house throughout the years, but this was the first that you weren't telling him to find someone interested. He was dedicated you had to give him that much.

Jack used to love watching as you would turn him down but now he was just trying to refrain from letting the contents of his stomach from coming out of his mouth each time he would catch you two. At the start of the first week it was simple hand touching, you would run your fingers along a part of the Ducks players body. But now you were sitting on his lap and had even gone as far as feed him some watermelon at one point.

As childish as it may have sounded the boy wished that his brother would step in and separate them. Jack was surprised that Quinn was so calm at the cozy sight of you and Trevor.

Little did Jack know, the only reason why Quinn was so relaxed about it all was that he really didn't care who you dated. Sure he wanted him to be a good guy, and knowing where Trevor lived made it a lot easier if he ever needed to hurt him for hurting you.

The Devils player had been so caught up in his annoyance for what was going on the he didn't even realise that the one day when he walked past the room you were in and he heard the sounds of your moans Jack thought you were with his best friend. But if he had stayed in that hallway for a second or two longer, he would have realised that you were alone and it was your hand that was getting you off.

The final night at the lake house had quickly come upon the group and to celebrate you guys used Jack and Quinn's lake house to throw a party.

The event had been a total success, drinks were pouring, people were singing, even Quinn was dancing at one point in the night. But one thing you always noticed was the way that Jack just glared at Trevor. Even when the prettiest girl at the lake tried to talk to the middle Hughes boy his eyes didn't move.

You thought that it was childish from the devils player, somehow he had been able to avoid saying a single word to you the entire night yet he still managed to get under your skin.

So when Jack made his way upstairs presumably to the bathroom you followed wanting to give him a talking to "I'll be right back," you mumbled squeezing Trevor's thigh as you left your space on the couch on the tail of the forward.

The bathroom door almost shut but you were able to get you hand in the way of it "what the hell is your problem?" You asked clearly letting the alcohol that was in your system cloud your judgement.

Jacks eyes went wide as he looked at you "you're the one who walked in on me," he reminded her feeling like he wasn't the person who should have been receiving questions.

You grumbled something incoherent under your breath "you keep on glaring at Z when he's done nothing wrong!" You yelled at the younger boy as you shut the bathroom door behind you, making sure to lock it in the process.

You didn't want him to leave before the conversation ended "you're the one who's sleeping with him." The hockey player shot back as he began to pee not caring that you were still there.

If there had been about four shots less of vodka in your system maybe you would have left "I'm not sleeping with him," you furrowed your eyebrows at the accusation wondering where it could have possibly came from.

That announcement both made Jack feel lighter but also like he wanted to shove his head in the sand "you were the one I heard walk past!" You let out a gasp as he washed his hands.

The devils player had never been soft footed "you heard me?" He asked letting the soft fabric of the towel dry his hands.

You snickered to yourself as you leaned against the door "should have known it was you," your voice was soft as you shook your head "if it was Z he would have done something about it." The jab at him made him quickly close any distance between you two.

He pressed his lips into a fine line "Trevor is an action man, you aren't." You shrugged as you locked eyes with him seeing how his scowl hardened honestly made your knees buckle.

You knew that when you woke up in the next morning anything that happened from this moment on, you were blaming on the alcohol.

Jack ignored the alarm bells that rang in his head as his mouth watered at the sight of your lips "yeah I am," he pouted almost hurt by your statement.

It was this specific moment that you crossed the point of no return "prove it." And with those seven letters his lips were on yours, tongues clashed in a messy fight that against was going to be blamed on the alcohol.

He tapped your leg motioning for you to jump as he hooked his hands under your legs before he took you to the counter and let you sit in it "love this dress." He confessed as his hands ran up your thighs going dangerously close to your core.

You let out a moan as your stomach felt on fire “do something already.” You complained as your pulled away from him wanting to clench your legs together at the view of his now swollen lower lip.

Jack smirked as he ran his fingers through your hair “patience is a virtue sweetheart,” he repeated one of your favourite lines that you used to tell him when he would rush you to get out of the bathroom at the lake house.

Furrowing your eyebrows you sent him a glare “I’m sure Z would be happy to fu-” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before Jack shoved two of his fingers into your mouth “suck,” he groaned at the sight of your lips wrapping around the two digits practically treating it like you were sucking a dick.

So you let your tongue swirl around the fingers as you contemplated all of your actions. But before you could continue his fingers were pulling from your mouth “fuck,” fell from his lips as he watched the trail of saliva break and land on your breasts.

The hockey player placed his other hand on your cheek “got warm you up for my cock okay?” When your head repeatedly nodded he took your lips into a kiss before he pulled your panties to the side easing his fingers into your core.

His were longer and thicker than yours so you were feeling things that you had never known that you could feel just from being fingered “shit.” Your head fell back giving the boy access to your neck where he peppered it in kissing.

Eyes screwed shut you knew that it was game over the second he placed his thumb on your clit. You were actually rather surprised that he not only knew where it was but also knew what to do with it. But the thoughts shit talking him quickly stopped when he placed the perfect amount of pressure on the little bud.

Jack smirked as he looked at the sight of you “what would Quinn say if he knew that you were up here about to get fucked?” He asked angling his fingers different as he hopped to make you feel a new type of sensations.

Most days you had a problem using your filter “he would probably think that it was Z doing it,” you matched the chuffed look that was on his face.

But that look quickly dropped when the boy pulled his fingers out of you “up,” he mumbled as he motioned to you to get off of the counter.

You face turned into one of confusing as you listened to him “you’re gonna watch yourself get fucked,” he explained as he raised your dress up to your stomach so that he could pull your panties down.

The lace hit the ground as Jack went to a black box that was in a drawer to get a condom “you knew you were gonna get fucked tonight huh?” You asked seeing his shorts fall down with his boxers to reveal his fully hardened cock.

Your mouth watered as you tried to remain calm “something tells me you’ve been wanting this,” the boy teased as he rolled the condom over his cock.

You gripped at the countertop in front of you “you wanna hurry up and do it then or what?” You grumbled growing impatient.

For what ever reason Jack just found this amusing “always had such a mouth on you,” he muttered placing a kiss on your neck before he locked eyes with you in the mirror “you sure you want this?” The boy ran his protected cock over your clit a few times “Jack if you don’t hurry up I swear to-” you were quickly cut off as he grounded his hips into yours.

Your head fell forward “god,” you groaned as he stopped moving giving you the time to adjust to his size.

He leaned forward “it’s just me honey,” he placed a warm kiss below your earlobe.

If he wasn’t currently deep inside of you, you would have rolled you eyes at him but you feared what it would cause him to do “just move please.” You begged as you were desperate to some form of a release today.

Jack nodded grabbing onto your hips as he began to slid in and out of you “you like getting fucked when all of your friends are downstairs?” He asked smirking as he watched your boobs bounce each time he thrusted inside of you as you had decided to forgo a bra with your dress.

Your mind was hazy “words or I stop honey,” the boy warned causing your eyes to snap open.

Met with the sight of his cock grounding you out repeatedly you couldn’t help it when you shuddered “you fuck me so good,” you called out not being able to take your eyes off of the mirror.

Without a single moment of care you were continuing to stroke his ego “like watching what it is like to be fucked good?” He sucked at your neck in an attempt to mark you that actually ended up causing you to clench around him “like this pussy was made for me.” Jack groaned as his head rested on the crook of your neck swearing that nobody could ever make him feel that good every again.

You were in this state of bliss as your legs began to wobble. You moved your one hand from the counter to your clit as you were desperate to feel some your orgasm fast “move your hand,” Jack warned but you never listened.

So he repeated himself again but this time making sure to softly tap your hand “move your hand before I fucking stop,” his tone was serious enough to cause you to listen letting your hand move back to the counter that it was once on.

Of course though the hockey player didn’t leave your clit unattended as his hand had taken over what you had been doing “you keep clenching around me like that and I’m gonna come,” he confessed not realising just how close you actually were.

You sucked at your teeth trying to come up with a way to say it “I’m gonna,” you announced cutting yourself off with a moan as you could feel the way that his dick throbbed inside of you.

The sound was like music to the boys ears “not yet,” he shook his head as he wanted to push you a little bit further.

Jack didn’t know when he would get another cause to do this so he wasn’t going to let the opportunity just roll past him “be a good girl and wait for me.” His tone was stern as he sped up his pace wanting to join you in that state.

It felt like mission impossible, you couldn’t hold on even if you tried “I can’t,” you now had tears welling in your eyes as you were teetering on the fine like between coming and not.

For the first time since he started fucking you, Jack had left your his alone as he had one hand on your clit and the other had just moved into your hair.

He tugged at it causing you head to rear against his shoulder. You two were now looking at each other directly, no mirror between you, no nothing. So he leaned down “come for me,” his words were soft and just as your mouth opened to let out a moan he captured your lips in a kiss. The hockey player fucked you through your orgasm and just as yours ended and you clenched around him for the longest time that you had yet, it spurred on his own orgasm.

You pulled away from him “Jack,” you whimpered out as the feeling of overstimulation was quickly approaching you.

It caused the boy to laugh as he slid out of you “enjoyed that?” He asked with a smirk as he placed you back on the bathroom counter when your legs began to act like jelly.

Before you could respond there was a knock at the door “Jack?” It was Quinn’s voice and it caused your eyes to go wide.

Jack almost forgot to respond as he was still taking in your post fuck look “yeah,” he groaned as you had kicked his knee.

Quinn had been searching for you for the last five minutes “you know where y/n is?” He asked desperately trying to find you.

You had to hold in a gasp as you were worried what the middle Hughes brother might say “haven’t seen her,” the Devils player lied as he sent you a smirk.

The look he sent you was silently saying you owe me.

So something made her realise that whatever this was with Jack wasn’t going to be over just yet.

[thesassypadawan]

Witchy Woman (A.J. x GFReader)

Summary: After playing a rather nasty trick on you at the beginning of spooky season.  You’ve been slowly taking out your revenge on J by constantly teasing, never letting him have the treat he wants so badly.  Maybe he should learn how to beg a little better or to not piss off a witchy woman. 

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut.  Begging, edging, riding, bullying from a smexy witch cop, mockery of a hat, and… A.J.’s big, fat dick.

Notes: Happy Kinktober all you, lovelies! 🖤🧡

🎉A VERY HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TO @everydaydreamer🎉

- ‘Woo-hoo, witchy woman…  See how high she flies…’

- The familiar tune filtered out from the speaker.  Playing softly, filling your apartment with its bewitching tune.  Setting the perfect mood for a cozy, sinfully good Halloween night in.  Watching movies, passing out candy, indulging in other sweet treats.  At least, that’s what your handsome devil hopes for…

- Bracing your palms on his firm chest; fingers gently knead, manicured nails lightly scratch at each inked pec.  “Fuck, sweetheart; killin’ me.”  You lift yourself off of him a few torturous inches; reveling in the way he grunts, squirms beneath.  “Been a month.”  Brow knitted in frustration, teeth gritted.  “Don’t…don’t make me beg.”    

- “Almost.”  Before slowly sinking down, pushing his generous length deep inside you once more.  “It’s been almost a month.”  Breathy sigh escaping while you savor the stretch, the ache, the delectable sensation of being full of him.  “And you should, after that nasty trick you played on me.”

- Keeping your pace controlled, lazy.  You clench your walls around him as you rise, swiveling your hips as you descend once more. “Said…shit-”  Causing A.J. to let out a low hiss; hands twitching uselessly above his head, wrists bound and held in place by a pair of dime store cuffs.  “Said I was sorry.”

- With a wicked little laugh, you push him deep inside your heat.  “That’s…mmmh…  That’s not good enough.”  Leaning forward ghosting your lips over his.  “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

- Pulling back, palms trailing lower; following, tracing the lines of his body.  “Beg.”  Come to rest on his toned thighs, squeezing the sinewy muscles.  “Behave.”

- Before dragging his cock in and out.  “Let me use you for my own fun.”   Thrusts slow, deliberately shallow so that he can watch himself disappear.  How your pussy hungrily, greedily takes and swallows him up every time.  “Then maybe I’ll consider ending that dry spell of yours…give you a nice treat.”

- “Dammit, fine…FINE!”  There it was, the last shreds of his stubborn pride gone.  “Please.”  Those simple, magic words that you have been waiting to hear.  “PLEASE!”  Coming from such a cunning, smooth man.  Makes a certain kind of warmth spread in your chest, to other extremities.

- “Getting there.”  Sticking two fingers in his mouth; swirling, moistening them on his tongue.  “But you can do better.”  Removing each with a wet sounding pop; bringing them to, rubbing your clit.

- Tilting your head to the side, nibbling your bottom.  “Why don’t you try again.”  Rolling, pinching the sensitive bud.  Moaning and cooing in way that drives him crazy, gets that monster of his really twitching.  “With more feeling, baaaaby.”

- “Fuck…fuck!”  He groans frustratedly; tugging at his restraints, coffee table scraping gently on the floor.  “Please…so-sorry!”  While his hips buck weakly, impatiently; undoubtedly seeking out more friction, more stimulation.  “Promise, won’t-”

- “Uh-uh, that’s not how you do it.”  You scold; pausing your motions, clamping down.  “You could give it another go.”  Running a slick covered thumb across his bottom lip.  Spreading, coating it; only allowing him a small taste of your sweet essence.  “But-”

- A growl mixed with a grunt floats out from under you.  “But…but what?!”  Trying to thrust up again, pulling harder to free himself.  “Dammit, doll, lemme fuck ya already!”  Blue eyes blown wide, wild look in them; cheeks flush, skin glistening from his sweat.  “I’m blue!”  Blond hair tousled and free.

- Grinding against his pelvis, rocking slightly faster.  Allowing his fat head to barely brush that toe-curling spot.  Hell fire starts to pool in your stomach, thighs begin to quiver and burn.  “But-”  Gaze wanders to the clock hanging above the mantle briefly, then back to his bootifully ruined face.  Watching him writhe, feeling his whole body practically  throb.  “You’re out of time…conjugal visit is over.”

- Abruptly you pull off him.  Adjusting your badge printed panties, straightening the navy skirt of your costume.  Placing your police cap on your head, acting like you weren’t even fazed or still so riled up.  Ignoring the slew of swears and hollow threats…  “Fuckin’ witch!  Get back on this dick!”  …as you slip on the tight-fitting cock ring, kiss his blood red tip.

- “That’s Officer Witch,” you hum, unlocking his cuffs.  “Now, I suggest you think about what you did…how to properly apologize while serving candy duty.”  Showing off your just out of reach cleavage.   “Oh, and I wouldn’t put that hat back on if I were you…unless you want me to tack on some extra days to your sentence.”  Enjoying the sight of A.J. rubbing his wrists and balls a tad too much.

- And even more so as he shifts uncomfortably from side to side, neck straining ever so slightly.  The forced smile he gives every ghost and goblin that approach your door.  The constant muttering, complaining under his breath about the churning and the ache.  “Sure you’re not a witch, sweetheart?”

- ‘Woo-hoo, witchy woman…  She got the moon in her eye…’

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @lotte08, @rafeswifeyy2, @exsamlockwood-kate, @sythethecarrot, @decaffeinatedunicorn, @fuckmyskywalker, @everydaydreamer, @jediavengers, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @xhunnybeeex, @vaderswifey

[short-honey-badger]

Older Men

Pairing! Crocodile x Reader

Warnings! Drinking

Crocodile realizes that you need someone older to take care of you, not the boys that you seem to want.

Masterlist

You fast walk through the tall tents of Buggy Town, arms wrapped tight around yourself and head ducked low so that no one else could see the tears streaming down your face. You'd been rejected again, by the third man in less than three weeks. All you wanted was a little companionship, someone to hold you close at night. To kiss you good morning when you woke up. Was that so wrong to want from someone your own age?

You don't notice how close you've gotten to Crocodile's side of the town until you physically bump into the man himself. You grunt when you lose your balance, and you brace for a fall that never happens. Instead, you feel warm sand supporting your back and upper arms, gently setting you back on your feet, and dangerously close to the ex warlord.

“Pretty things like you should watch where they are going,” Crocodile grouches lowly, and you look up at him through wet lashes.

“Sorry, sir. I'll be more careful,” you murmur, and fresh tears spout up at the reprimand. Now look at what you've done. Gone and pissed off one of the leaders of the Cross Guild.

Crocodile looks down at you, looking rather unimpressed with the thick cigar clenched between his teeth. He recognizes you and has seen your walk of shame back to his side of town each time your little date didn't go as planned. He didn't understand why you would want to waste your time on pip squeaks like them when he has been here this whole time.

The devil fruit user comes to the conclusion quickly and spins on his heel, “Come with me.”

You blink at his retreating back and jump to follow after him when he glances over his shoulder with an expectant look. You follow him to the edge of the town, and he steps to the side to allow you inside his personal tent first. You're just a little nervous being in here. You've known Crocodile for a while, after all.

He breezes past you, stopping at his desk to pour two glasses of dark liquor. He pushes one glass to the edge, an obvious offer that you are hesitant to accept. However, it's never a wise choice to not accept anything that the towering man offered.

The liquor burns as it goes down, but you find yourself relaxing because of it. You watch as Crocodile hums in satisfaction and sits back in his chair, mouth going a bit dry at the way he spreads his legs and rests his dangerous hook on his thigh.

“Why do you bother with those boys?”

You jump at the unexpected timbre and whip around to give him a look of confusion. He scowls at you, rolling his purple eyes skyward.

“Don't play ignorant. I've watched you each time you come crying back home. Why do you keep trying with them?”

You sink into yourself a little. You don't understand why it matters to Crocodile, but you couldn't not answer your boss.

“I um. I should be with someone my own age, right?” You say carefully. You've never really thought too much about the why of it.

“ku- ha ha, Who told you that?” He demands and his voice drips with condescension, clearly thinking you an idiot. You blush and embarrassed tears well up.

“No one? I just thought that's how it's supposed to go.”

Crocodile lets out a soft hmm, and then sets his now empty glass away. He eyes you, looking all cute and pathetic.

“Come here, Doll,” he murmurs and pats his lap, “Those boys out there will never know how to treat a beautiful woman. You need someone to take charge, someone who knows what they're doing. Someone a little older.”

Your face feels like it's on fire, but you can't help but hang on to every word that the gator says, his tone soft and beckoning. You step closer, clearly nervous, but Crocodile makes your decision for you when the ground under your feet becomes less stable and you fall forward, catching yourself on his broad shoulders.

Crocodile rumbles another laugh and tugs you into his lap properly, tucking you close to his chest. His hand finds your face, and the ex warlord is gentle in the way that he wipes your spilled tears away. His eyes soften, and you look on in wonder as he leans in and presses his lips to the top of your head.

“You've got me now, _, so don't think for a second that I'll send you away.”

[demonsword586]

Gehenna pp headcanons! (Just nobles)

(A little warning. This gets explicit. I was trying to make it goofy but I think I might have gone a bit....off. Still I hope you enjoy it. Mind you,I never saw a pp before,only an imaginary one of my friend and they still didn't let me poke it.)

Sitri

- Okay let's start off with the size...just from what I seen of him,I think he's on the bigger side. Definetlly bigger than Satan and his king is still pissed about that from time to time.

- 20-21 cm I think

-Now he is a gentleman. He was raised in hell called Hades. Which means he was probably taught of proper higene. In other words,this man's lower region is as smooth as a baby.

-Smells like tea. He drank so much tea,his piss now smells good and his cum tastes like black tea.

-Now for the shape and color. I think his tip is on a brighter side of pink. It's suprisingly slim and elegant compared to someone like Satan who's penis looks like a meat claymore.

-Anyway good penis on a good man. Refreshing as well if you need a man with flavoured cum.

Zagan

- Hmm....Now for Zagan,I think he's a grower.

-His bulge is pretty small but if we think on how much he exercises,there's no way he isn't training his penis as well.

-Okay hear me out. He has a little workout routine for his pp. He flexes up his muscles and makes it go up and down,probably does a helicopter to warm it up.

-And it actually works! His pp has grown in lenght and girth from his training and now he can make it hard on command.

-He does smell a bit funny though. He works out and while yes,you can hide the scent of sweat on most of your body,this is one part where he can'r mask the scent because it is simply too strong.

-My point? His pp smells...of manliness!

-He tries to take care of his pubes but would prefer to keep a small white bush above the shaft. You can't get him to shave it off tho. The bush stays.

-Also I think most of his cock is the color of his skin except his tip which is just one shade lighter.

-His seed tastes like protein tho.

Paimon

- Tucks it. I can't explain why but he tucks it. This bulge? Those are his balls.

-The actual size of it is around 13 cm. A little small for a devil but still packs a punch.

-He wears very cute underwear. He knows no one will see it but it just feels nice to know he has something cute on. Wears comfier undies when he's home and done for the day.

-Likes to put glitter on it. He just thought it would be a funny little thing if he putted some of that super fine and sticky glitter on the shaft....and now he puts on a little fasion show for the other nobles every once in awhile.

-It's actually good tho. He uses those little brushes and stencils. He once even did it for Leraye who then ran around pantless to show everyone how talented Paimon is at dick decoration.

-Sometimes when he thinks he doesn't smell good,he might put some parfume on it. Don't be suprised when his pp smells like flowers or vanilla.

-Very well groomed. No hair on the balls or around the penis. The only thing that he does have...is a little heart shaped bush slightly above his pp.

-The penis itself is on a little more girthy side and when hard it leans slightly to the right. Pretty pale with a pale pink tip.

Leraye

- flat

- Anyway Leraye I think is also a grower. It may not look impressive flaccid wirh only 12 cm but when it gets HARD..oh boy. It goes from a puppy to a wolf. This thing is easily 21 cm once you wake it up.

- The shape is on a leaner side. Being slender but also long. He does hower go thicker around the base. But only at the base,like a slight knot.

- He once walked in on Zagan when he was warming up his pp with the helicopter move and then very euthusiasticlly asked Zagan to teach him.

-Next time you two were about to have a passionate night he wanted to show you a trick. Wipes it out and then swings his pp around like a disco ball while saying 'Look what I can do!😃' It ended up being a little joke between the two of you.

-Suprisingly doesn't have a headless teddy anywhere near his cock. If you ask him,maybe just our of curiousity,why he doesn't have a teddy there like on his horn he will look at you with dread. That would be just rude of him to dirty the dead body of a plushie by impaling it on his pp. He can't bring himself to go as low as Glasyal.

- He does have a bit of pubic hair. A small, dishaved,blond bush . Very pretty and suits him. Please let him keep it.

-His cock is as milky as him. A very pretty color with a flush tip.

Belial

- Normal. Questionably normal lenght. It's not too big and not too small. Just...normal. maybe falls a cm or two from perfect.

-It's also on a little skinnier side. Nice and thin.

-Still size isn't everything. It's important how he uses it....and unfortunatelly for you,he's good!

-He manages to fill in for the lack of impressivness with his experience.

-He is quite strong so with him you're able to try some more adventurous positions like the bicycle or the ballet dancer.

-Gets easily moist. His precum is very watery so his tip looks like it's always glistening.

-Very well groomed. Almost no hair down there except for a thin strip. Also the carpet maches the drapes,his pubes have red ends.

- He also has 2 frenum piercings. Astaroth recommended him to get them,saying " You will corrupt many mortals with these. "

-The dick itself is pretty pale with a darker shade of pink at the tip.

Astaroth

- OH HOLY MARY

- *cough* Sorry *cough* thighs...

-Anyway! Let's go from the size down....BIG. The snake on his bory isn't the only snake he has.

- 26 cm

- You know how snakes hide their pps in what looks like a slit? Yea Astaroth can do that.

-Normally he keeps it inside of himself,but when he gets shy or horny,it pops out and his pants suddenly look a little heavier. There was a time when Sitri didn't know about his anathomy and just saw him suddenly get a bulge. He asked him if he just shat himself.

- Once out and hard,his cock naturally curves upwards. It's just slightly thicker than a normal one but with how long it is,that may be for the best.

- He has a dydoe piercing on the head of it. He considered going for more but decided not to after how intense it felt. He does always wonder how it would feel like if his piercings got stuck inside of you. How romantic~ Two lovers tied together as one for eternity~ (Thankfully it never happens. He is nice enough to take them off if you don't like the feel of them)

- He likes to keep himself well groomed. I mean very well groomed. He waxes off everything and then puts extra virgin olive oil on top. He also puts some on his shaft from time to time to make it a bit more smooth and squishy.