#green is slowly becoming my color

[lowkeyremi]

sooo I changed my theme to keroppi and ushi cuz I love both of them BUT JUST IMAGINE USHI DRESSED UP IN A KEROPPI ONESIE OR A COLLAB LIKE THE MHA x SANRIO COLLAB

[feelgoodinct]

nsfw, mdni.

simon becomes an absolute dog when he sees you in his shirt.

cw: possessive simon, sex on carpet (ouch), unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink (?).

simon is a good roommate. he’s organized, clean, pays rent on time, and minds his own space. the only thing is—roommate is hot. stupidly hot. you know he doesn’t have a girlfriend and he’s never once brought back a girl let alone mentioned one. you figured your little crush on him would pass like all the other (it does not). you start dropping hints that you find him attractive. like wearing your tightest tops, brushing your ass against him while reaching for a cup, even leaving one of your lacy thongs to mix in with his laundry. he never bites the bait. you start to think that maybe he just doesn’t find you attractive or even worse he finds you creepy. so you tuck your schoolgirl crush away into the cavity of your chest.

you close the washer with your hip, cradling your laundry basket back to your room. you hear the familiar turn of your front door lock letting you know simon is home from his morning gym session.

you pad into the living room to ask simon if he needed any clothes washed. simons back is turned from you when he begins to slip off his trainers, dropping his gym at the foot of the door.

“need any clothes washed? i’m starting a load up right now.” you ask eyeing the movement of back muscle underneath his compression shirt.

he finally turns to you and starts to respond “nah don’t think-“ before he snaps his mouth shut when he sees what you’re wearing. “that mine?” his voice gruff, it’s his army issued shirt that is long enough to cover your shorts. a deep green color that frays at the hem and has his last name in bold at the back of it. you notice he’s staring at the worn fabric waiting for an answer.

you look down, “oh yeah. sorry was doing laundry found this in hamper. my clothes are in the wash. hope that’s okay?” you sound apologetic like you just did something unforgivable. jesus christ what were you thinking wearing his shirt without asking. you shift trying to ease your embarrassment.

he’s on you in three short strides. making a noise between a growl and snarl. you don’t know how or when you both ended up on the living room floor. frankly, it’s the last thing on your fucking mind now that you’re on your knees cheek pressing into the shag carpet. you can feel the heat of his stare between your legs. you get a glimpse of your shorts and panties strewn across the floor leaving you in his shirt. you wait with bated breath for him to touch you. you wiggle your hips in a silent plead to get him to do something, anything…everything.

he gives the flesh of your ass a heavy smack that has you clenching around nothing. “be good now.” is all you hear before the sting leaves an angry red mark that you know is gonna leave you wincing for the next week. simon smooths a hand over the back of your (his) shirt making a noise in the back of his throat.

you hear shuffling behind you before you feel the head of him catch on to your opening making your mouth gape like a fish out of water. he groans at the contact, kneading the fat of your hips, before he presses in painfully slow with a hiss. you whimper into the carpet, fists balling, feeling hot all over. your cunt pulses trying to make room for him inside your womb.

“i know. i know, pretty girl. almost there.” simon bites back a hiss when you clench at his words. you think you might die like this. laid out on ugly apartment carpet trying to take simon’s cock. you could cry with relief when you feel simon’s balls meet your clit letting you know he’s all the way in. simon lets out a guttural sound bordering on animalistic at the sight of you speared open on his cock, last name across your back, absolutely crying for it.

he fists the bottom of the shirt to keep you still and eases his hips back just to sink back in slowly. the pressure in your navel hurts so good it’s starting to make you dizzy. simon sets a pace that has you trying to cant your hips back to meet his thrusts. he lays a heavy palm in the middle of your back, just under the boldened ‘RILEY’, keeping you pinned giving you no choice but to take what he gives you.

“prettiest fuckin girl i ever seen. gonna give this cunt the proper treatment she deserves, yeah?” he bends his left leg, somehow sliding in deeper. there’s no doubt that you can feel him in your lungs. “s’deep simon.” you slur, reaching a hand back to weakly press against his stomach. he chuckles at the act taking both wrists into one of his hands pressing them at the small of your back, forcing you into a deeper arch. you sob at the change in angle. your nipples being rubbed raw by the friction of his thrusts.

“needed this real bad, huh? don’t worry baby. i’ll make sure you don’t go without it again. wearing those tiny tops think i didn’t notice.” his voice rough and deep behind you. “uh huh.” you reply without a second thought, you don’t even care that you’ve been drooling into the carpet or that you’ve been caught. simon gives a deep chuckle at how pliant you’ve become just from some good dick.

he knows your close by the increasing volume of your sounds. he never lets up his pace determined to give you his all. “where?” he asks in a quick breathe. you take a few seconds to register his words. “huh?” you manage to squeak out. “where do you want me, pretty thing?” he says in an almost pained voice. the gears turn in your head before you speak up “inside. want it inside. m’clean. pill.” resorting to short clipped words. you beg, as if you have to, simon thinks.

your orgasm comes hard and fast leaving you sobbing out garbled version of please and simon. simon is not far behind burying himself as deep as your bodies will allow and comes inside with a pinched “oh fuck.” he pulls out with a pop and watches his spend leak down your slit leaving a small puddle on the floor that he knows he’ll have to scrub out later.

simon pats your backside affectionately. “don’t think we’ll be doing any laundry today” he says with a grin that makes you giggle. “yeah, don’t think so.”

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC My Brother in the Mirror

Damian doesn't like mirrors.

He never mentioned the fact to other members of the family, but they are detectives and vigilantes, it's their job to be observant. Which, after so many years, becomes a habit.

Damian doesn't actively avoid the mirrors - he has a mirror in his bathroom, he didn't express any discomfort over going into a mirror labyrinth at some carnival they've attended (he expressed disgust over taking part in something so stupid, in his words, but that's a whole another story), and he actually spent a few minutes in front of the funhouse mirrors when no one was looking, watching his own reflection distort in various ways. He also has no problems with his self-image - he doesn't mind pictures of him taken at any time (unless it's Tim, but that's, again, a whole another story), he's drawn a few self-portraits that were rather accurate and he liked them.

He just doesn't like mirrors. For some reason.

His family, both close and extended, never questioned it. They did some gentle research to see if the dislike was caused by some kind of problem Damian was experiencing without telling anyone, but when they found no proof of that, they've just decided it was some quirk of his. Everyone has quirks. Dick doesn't like eating cereal like a normal person, Tim despises sleep, Steph is at war with any color other than purple.

That is, until one day, Tim witnesses Damian sitting in front of a mirror.

He is not even aware of it - the whole family is having a game night, and through some arguments and rearrangements on the couch, Damian ends up sitting on the left side of it, where his back is turned to one of the three mirrors in the room. Tim, who's lost the last round, is slumping in an armchair nearby, pointedly looking away from the screen where Damian and Jason are enthusiastically competing over the first place in Mario Cart. Of course, Tim can't just not watch it since he needs to know their strategies. But turning back around would also be admitting defeat.

The solution? Easy, watch the screen through the mirror.

Which is when he notices it.

Damian in the mirror doesn't act the same as Damian in the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Tim can see the real Damian moving around, shoving Jason with his elbow, fully concentrated on the game, and yelling something. Damian-in-the-mirror is sitting unnaturally still, the back of his head over the couch unmoving.

Tim forgets all about the game when Damian's reflection starts to turn around. Slowly and carefully, eerie in the way the horror movies are, the boy in the mirror turns his head around like an owl, his neck twisting inhumanely.

His eyes are green. Green like the toxic waste, like Jason's madness, like acid in cartoons, like the Waters of Lazarus.

Damian in the mirror smiles, his unblinking, gliwing eyes fixed on Tim, and his teeth are sharp and pointy, and there are too many of them, humans can't smile this wide.

"-im? Tim!" A hand nudges him in the shoulder, and Tim looks away from the mirror, finding Dick standing over him. The noise of the game room returns all at once, and, wait, when did it become quiet for Tim?.. He must have a strange expression on his face because Dick's easy smile falls slightly, and he frowns, "Is everything okay?"

Tim looks back to the mirror, but the green-eyed boy in the mirror is gone, and the mirror only reflects Damian as he is: sitting on the couch.

"Yeah," Tim shakes his head and forces a smile on his lips, "I just zoned out."

"Okay," Dick pats him on the shoulder and gives him the controller, "It's your turn now."

Tim takes the controller and turns around, facing the screen. Tim throws a quick glance at Damian, who had slid down on the couch so his head would not be in the reflection anymore. Tim sees the cold, warning hint to his eye, a clear do not speak of it message.

Tim doesn't like that the mirror is now behind him.

[entitled-fangirl]

War prize.

Cregan Stark x Targaryen!reader

Summary: The North hates Cregan's wife and shows it rather harshly. Cregan is there to tell them off.

Warnings: violence, sexism, talks of losing virginity unwillingly, the poor reader just going through it😭

A/n: My writing is kinda eh on this one but I got it done which is all that matters. Huge italicized sections mean like a little flashback in case you needed to know that. Based on an ask!

Masterlist

........................................................

She watched her guard lock the door behind him.

How long had she been stuck in this castle?

She felt used. Taken as a trophy and nothing more. Purely a way to show status.

Purely a way to show who won the war.

Cregan Stark had won the war. And now she was his.

He was kind and caring, quick to compassion and slow to anger. If not for the others, she could've seen this as a happy marriage.

But the others made that impossible.

For the door was not locked to keep her in, but to keep others out.

Cregan saw the very actions his people tried against her, and he was concerned. 

It didn't help that all of her dresses were green. A reminder of what had come to pass.

Anytime Cregan's back was turned, something happened to her. Whether it was harsh words, spitting at her feet, or even once a manhandling that almost turned into a mob.

Cregan knew she deserved better. She was kind. He hardly believed her to be a Hightower. At first glance that day in the Keep, he thought perhaps she was Aemond's wife, or another one of Aegon's whores he had always kept around.

But no. Aemond's twin sister.

…

He felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness when two men threw the woman to the ground in front of him.

Her dress was torn in places. Her hair was tangled and dirt ran from her temple to her chin, clearly having been thrown around a lot. She wiped the falling tears from her face with bruised hands. 

"What is this?" He asked the men. Others began to crowd around them to see what would become of her.

The men had only seen prostitutes along the path from the North to the Keep, and even those were few. Seeing a highborn lady was a rare sight.

"Found her hiding away," the man on her right commented.

Cregan sighed and reached down, pulling her chin up so he could look at her. He tipped her face from side to side, observing her. "And what did you hope I'd say when you threw a princess down at my feet? Did you expect me to reward you?"

The man paled. "Well, this is a traitor, my lord. Surely-"

"-Her only crime was the womb she was born from."

"She wears their colors still, Lord Stark-"

"Is she? I can hardly tell under the mud you've drug her through." He huffed, "I want you two out of my sight."

They looked at one another and nodded, moving to pick up the girl again. She jerked back in fear. 

"Leave her," he grumbled. "Well? Be gone. All of you!"

Slowly, they filed out of the room. "Are you gravely injured?" He asked softly.

"Not particularly, my lord," she whimpered.

He sighed and bent at the knee, joining her on the ground. "Did any of them truly put their hands on you? More than to drag you here?"

She wiped her face again, "Are you hoping to take my innocence, my lord?"

A noise involuntarily left his throat. "What?"

"I… It is yours. Just please don't harm me," she sniffled.

Any motion he made to comfort her, he pulled away as if burned. "I'm not going to do that."

"No, no please don't leave me to them," she begged when he pulled away. "Please don't let them have me. I'll do anything."

"They won't have you," he tried again. "Nothing more is going to happen to you. Now, go get redressed and come back. You're not leaving my side until I get this situated."

…

After a few hours, Cregan unlocked the door and entered their shared chambers. "My love?"

He cursed under his breath when he noticed she had fallen asleep on the bed. He wouldn't have been so loud had he known.

He sat on the bed and brushed her hair from her face. "Wake up, dear wife."

She hummed in discontent.

His lips pulled into a thin line. Things had gone especially wrong lately and it had begun to show in her actions. 

"C'mon." He began to pull her up. 

She whined and began to lean into him, tucking her face into his neck.

He chuckled, "I have something for you."

Her eyes opened, "Oh, do you?" 

…

There was outrage when Cregan took her as a wife. The North fought against the idea of having a Southern traitor as their Lady.

He had promised King Aegon III to be fair and just, and the boy said okay, knowing that he would stay honest to his word. 

But the North hated her all the same.

Cregan never considered to fear for her safety, for she was the Warden's wife, and he thought the people would know better than to touch her. 

That, and she hadn't told him of the things said right to her face when he wasn't around. She figured he knew. 

They walked through the city, her arm in his as he showed her around. She took in every sight she could, entranced by the culture of the North. 

But that also welcomed the stares.

Cregan had noticed them immediately, and he flipped her hood up. He didn't care about them, but he knew she would. So by doing so, he was hoping it would bring her a little more comfort. 

Anyone in Westeros would recognize that silver hair.

He leaned down just a bit. "Just tell me when you grow tired or cold."

She nodded, "May I go explore?"

He smiled, "So eager to get away from me?"

"No," she corrects.

"I'm only jesting. Go on."

She grinned and began to look around, trying to decide where to go first.

"Don't wander off too far," he remarked as he moved towards a lord to chat.

She nodded and went, walking a little further down the road. She looked back occasionally to make sure she was still in his line of sight. In doing so, she bumped into a woman harshly.

Y/n pulled back and apologized. "Forgive me!"

The woman set her basket down and straightened her skirt. "Foolish girl. Watch where you step next time."

"I do apologize." She dug in her pocket, pulling out a few coins. "Here. For your trouble."

The woman's eyes widened. She pulled the coins from her hand accusingly. "Where did you get these?" She hissed.

"Well… I… just from…" she turned back to where she could see Cregan. 

The woman grabbed her arm. "Did you steal these? Tell me where."

She jerked against the woman's movements. "No. No, I didn't."

"My lady, is this girl bothering you?" A tall man interfered, helping the woman.

The woman tilted her head, "She's throwing around coins like she's something of value. Look at 'er."

The man eyed her and reached up, pulling the princess' hood down. Their eyes widened. 

She turned to try to catch Cregan's attention, but the man pulled her to him. "A Targaryen, eh? The usurper's bitch sister, aren't you?"

"Please let me go," she whimpered.

"A green traitor in Winterfell? Seems the rumors were right."

She tried to pull her arm away, "Unhand me."

"Shut it, traitor scum."

"CREGAN!" She yelled out of instinct.

Cregan's head snapped immediately, his heart dropping to his stomach. His eyes scanned the crowd, trying to find her amidst the people that had begun to gather. But he couldn't see her. His worry grew and he began to step out into the crowd in hope of finding her.

She fought against the man's grip. She remembered this feeling of helplessness from only weeks before. "Stop! Please… Please, I'll do anything! Just stop!" 

Anyone around them was stopped now, onlooking or shouting at what was going on.

Cregan's jaw set as he figured she was in the midst of it, and he rolled his shoulders back.

"CREGAN!" He heard again, and that was all he needed.

He began to shove people to the side in an attempt to move through the mob that had begun to form. His angered shouts were drowned out.

Luckily, the Northern Warden was burly and built like a wall, so he was able to work through the crowd by sheer force alone. 

Once towards the middle, he finally saw her. 

The man held her tightly by her silver hair. Her hands were trying to lighten his harsh grip on her as she cried. She couldn't stop the others’ hands from pulling at her skirt or the way they spit at her, but she could at least try to stop the pain erupting from her scalp.

"ENOUGH!" Cregan yelled. He finally made it to them, and his hand gripped the man's throat tightly and he leaned down to his ear. "Unhand her."

She sunk to the ground and clutched at her dress.

Cregan kept his hand firm but looked out at the others that still surrounded them. "Leave." he growled through his teeth. "All of you." When no one moved, he threw the man to the ground and turned to them in rage. "LEAVE!"

One by one they left quietly. He looked down at the man. "May the gods have mercy on you, for I have none."

…

"Keep your eyes closed," he chuckled when she almost stumbled. "I've got you."

"How far must we go?"

"Almost there, I assure you."

After a while, he finally sat her down and instructed her to hold on her arms.

A heavy weight was placed in them. Something soft. Something moving.

"Open."

"A dire wolf?" Her eyes widened.

"Mere pup now, but a mighty predator later. I felt I owed you one."

She frowned, "You don't owe me a thing. I… I feel as if I owe you."

He couldn't stop a bright laugh from escaping his throat. "Hardly."

"Cregan," she began, trying to ignore the way the pup cuddled into her for warmth. "You have saved me time and time again. Without you, I would be in some brothel, or maimed by a man without heart, or…" her voice faltered, "Paraded through King's Landing as a true war prize. But I am not. I'm your wife instead. That is a fate I did not deserve."

"But I failed you. I promised to protect you, but I find that I cannot do that as well as I had hoped. This war was hard on my people. While I cannot fault them for their anger, it is wrong to use it on their Lady of Winterfell." His voice grew persistent. "You are mine. You are no Hightower anymore. You and I both know that."

She nodded and began to pet the wolf. "I pray that the North does one day."

"They will," he confirmed. "I shall make them if I must."

"I just don't want to be stuck in this room anymore. These walls are driving me mad," she admitted.

He sighed. "I'm sure they are. But soon you shall have a protector for when I cannot be there." He leaned down at pet the small pup on her lap. "This too will pass eventually."

"Once I give you an heir?"

"Once we have a child," he corrected, "I'm sure they shall be lighter on you."

"And until then?"

He smiled sweetly, "I'll do all I can. Now." He brushed hair from her face. "Please say you like it," he said as he looked down at the pup.

Only then did she let herself truly consider that she now had a dire wolf. "It's beautiful. I just…"

He held a finger up, "Enough of that. I promise you that I and this pup will not let another hand touch you."

She flushed lightly and smiled. "Thank you. I do not say that enough."

He shrugged. "You do, it just usually looks like other things instead."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he looked down at her dress, "wearing the dress that I had made for you is a thank you in and of itself. Blue suits you well. I could name things for all eternity. You are a perfect wife. And I admire you greatly."

"You've only known me seven moons."

"And that is seven moons enough to know."

"Cregan, I am a trophy of your accomplishments."

"You are hardly that."

She sighed, "But that is what they see me as."

"Do I?"

She considered his question. "I don't believe so."

"Then does it matter? I respect you, and with time, I will make sure they do as well."

She nodded and adjusted the dog in her arms. "Very well. I trust you."

He smiled and stood. "That's all I ask for. Now, name your pup and dress for supper. I'll come collect you myself. Is that alright?"

She nodded again.

"The North will like you," he left off with as he closed the door behind him.

She heard the lock behind him.

In time. 

In time.

Either they learn to like her, or they shall meet a Stark dire wolf closely.

The actual dire wolf or Cregan Stark, it didn't matter.

Their jaws would both equally snap at any threat.

.................................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver,

[starry-bi-sky]

a half-ghost--? no- no wait, that's a changeling. that's even worse.

so i'd like to preface this by saying this stems from me going entirely off the rails thinking about tales of the passerine-- which is frankly quite on brand for me to think of one au, and then develop it so far left ways that it makes another au entirely.

bUT. Context! Danny's ancestors sometime before they immigrated to America had a fae marry into the family. This had its Side Effects. Naturally. The Fentonnightengale responsible for this charmed a fae thanks to their swagless nature and awkward demeanor, so instead of getting eaten the fae thought it was cute instead. The fae marrying into the family had an affinity for music, but that kinda repressed itself by accident -- blame the salem witch trials.

By the time Danny is born, the fae blood has become so latent that it really doesn't show up anymore other than the Fentons Eccentricity and obsession with the supernatural (a latent desire to return home to the fae realm - aka infinite realms). There's an unnatural charm surrounding the fenton that really only creeps almost every human within a visual radius, and Danny is no exception.

hoWEVEr. the accident that turned danny into a halfa in one timeline did no such thing in this one -- it just reactivated his latent fae blood, and reactivated it with a fervor. Effectively turning Danny from a human into a changeling.

Danny just thinks at first that he's a half-ghost -- only to realize later on from Clockwork that he's not one at all. He's very much fae -- which is a wild discovery for Danny to make. It also means his rogues are quite a bit more intimidated by him. Fae are above ghosts in the Infinite Realm Creature Hierarchy, no matter how powerful they are. A fae can still Steal the name of a ghost, so Danny's rogues are rather skittish/unsure around Danny until they realize he doesn't know he's a changeling -- after that, many of them vow to try and keep it secret amongst themselves.

Danny's 'ghost' form is rather birdlike, and in human form his appearance warps to match his comfortability. When he's alone with his friends he starts taking on unnatural features. -- his blue-green eyes brighten and his pupils elongate, his teeth sharpen, and his ears grow longer and animal-like. His hair softens to be more feathery, his nails sharpen. In general he takes on more 'bird-ish' features. At school, around his parents, and when he's stressed, tense, or scared, he looks completely human -- an instinctual survival mechanism.

As a ghost, he has large, pretty wings that gradient from black to dark purple-blue, with a shimmer across the feathers that resembles the aurora borealis. His limbs elongate, his legs becoming bird-like and his talons grow on both his feet and nails. His ears vaguely resemble a rabbit's, although they don't flop down like one. All his teeth sharpen. Razor sharp chompers, capable of biting through bone. His eyes take on a greenish-hue, but otherwise remain the same color, albeit his sclera becomes blue-ish and his pupils become diamond-shaped and white. Rings of seafoam blue circle around his iris, creating a reflective sheen. He makes chirping, creaking noises, and when he speaks there's a faint overlap that is very enchanting.

Overall he's rather beautiful in a terrifyingly inhuman way, its hard to take your eyes off him. He has a lot of feathers. He's very drawn to singing and music in general, and gets into music sometime after his accident. He likes flutes/ocarinas/woodwinds the most, followed shortly after by strings, and then piano. He also slowly loses the ability to lie -- which is really annoying and also terrifying until he learns how to reword himself and become a better wordsmith.

SInce this stemmed from an older brother dpdc au, its gonna stay an older brother dpdc au alsfh. i'll just get to the dpxdc part in another post since i wanted to get this off my chest first

[cosmicpearlz]

seeing green

summary: realistically, you have no right being jealous but you couldn't help it. he is yours whether anyone knew it or not.

pairing: jude bellingham x reader

situationships were funny when it came down to being possessive over someone whose not yours officially. you and jude had been secretly seeing each other. calling each other at different times to meet each other's needs. it all started from a drunken kiss.

-the kiss-

"stop looking at me like that bellingham," you said, while slightly smirking at the boy sitting right next to you. you came over to jude's house because it was a stressful day. he suggested a couple drinks to unwind the day. leading you guys here.

"like what?"

"you know what I'm talking about," as you replied, jude slowly grew a grin on his face. he watched you with hooded eyes and licked his lips, taking in the sight of you.

"it's not my fault you're sitting here looking so fucking pretty."

"stop that."

"no. i'm really enjoying my view."

neither one of you realized how you guys shifted closer to each other on the couch. the soft sounds of the tv becoming background noise as you guys stared in each other's eyes.

"can i kiss you?"

"are you drunk?"

"nah, just tipsy. are you drunk love?"

"no sir, i'd say i'm just tipsy too."

"won't that ruin our friendship jude?" his hand inched up your thigh, caressing it. you looked down at his hand connected to your thigh and slightly smiled.

"just one kiss. then we'll be right back to the same y/n and jude that we've always been."

"just one kiss, right? it won't hurt us."

"it won't hurt us," jude echoed you. nose to nose now, jude seals the deal by kissing you.

the kiss starting off slow. his gentle touch paired with his soft lips, sent butterflies through your stomach. jude wraps his arms around your waist to pull you into his lap. once you settled in his lap, his fingers move under your shirt. brushing over the bare skin. you continued to explore each other as the kiss began to heat up. becoming more messy and eager. he licks your bottom lip and you were quick to grant him access. tongues fighting for dominance, causing you to grin into the kiss.

the kiss coming to end, jude lays a couple of pecks to your lips before you both pulled away. you shook your head with a smile and turned away from his gaze.

"that is the first and last time we kiss mr. bellingham," you hold up your pinky, to make a weak pinky promise.

"first and last time. scouts honor," he locks his pinky with yours and matches the grin you have. you giggled, making jude join into the laugher.

-

it wasn't the last time. in fact, you guys had share multiple kisses even without having drinks. which is why you held your drink tightly in your hand, as you watched him talk to another girl. seeing Jude smile and laugh with her, made your chest burn with jealousy.

"you alright mate?" you turn your head to find jobe standing next to you.

"of course, why wouldn't i be?"

"maybe because jude is standing there talking to another girl."

"we're best friends. definitely not together, so he can talk to who he wants."

"y'know i thought green would be your color. just maybe not this shade of green," you gasp and playfully slap the younger boy's shoulder. jobe chuckles and moves back, in hopes of not getting hit again.

"this is why jude's the better bellingham," you stick your tongue out and walk away from jobe with a small smile. jude takes this as a sign to excuse himself and follow you.

"fancy seeing you here."

"did you really follow me all the way outside?"

"well yes. did you really leave because you saw me with another girl?"

"maybe," you sip on your drink and turn your head away from him. jude moves closer to you and wraps his arm around your waist. bringing a hand to your chin, he turns your head to face him again.

"were you really jealous?"

"so what if I am?"

"ooo you wanna kiss me so bad, dontcha?" you laughed, pushing him away.

"shut up."

"c'mere, we're not done," he pulls you into him by your arm. you guys were chest to chest, as you looked up at him. brown eyes staring right back at you.

"i fear i ruined our friendship," you whispered to him, holding the intense eye contact.

"me too."

"what does this mean?"

"that i've been yours since we started hooking up."

"really?"

"yes darling. you literally have nothing to worry about."

"good, because i don't like to share."

"that's really funny because i don't either," jude pulls you into kiss. silently confirming that you guys are taking the steps to be exclusive. he was yours and you were his. although, he's really always been yours.

[reddesires]

Magnetic

Logan Howlett x Mutant Reader

Summary: There's only one way of satisfying your undying curiosity of finding out whether or not those fridge magnets will stick to the one and only Wolverine, who just happens to have an adamantium skeleton.

A/N: There may or may not be a continuation of this, idk yet.

It first started off as mere curiosity, the fact of knowing Logan's skeleton was enveloped by pure metal on the forefront of your brain.

Your eyes would constantly wander to the fridge that was decorated by various colorful magnets by the students, the cat and and the multicolored alphabet letters, especially catching your attention.

The growing need to know if those magnets would stick to Logan or not was just too irresistible to refuse as you snatch the grumpy cat magnet from the fridge door, examining the narrowed green eyes on the face of black feline. Yeah, it reminded you very much of the rugged mean mugging man who was all too unaware of your devious intentions.

Logan was used to your teasing antics of playing with his tufts of hair whenever you got the chance or somehow discovering all the new hiding places he hides his beer in, just to hide them elsewhere (he thinks it's your sixth sense at this point). He feels as if he's always on his toes when it comes to you, your mutation aiding you in somehow bypassing his enhanced senses, you find great joy in sneaking up on him when he least expects it.

So when you casually walk in the room that he's in with your hands behind your back with a feign, innocent look on your face, his eyes narrow suspiciously. “Oh hey Lo! Didn't expect to see you here!” The lilt in your voice and the sway of your body as you walk over only cause him to tense as he sits up straight, his eyebrow raising in question.

“You know I usually sit here,” his voice trails off as his eyes trail up and down, analyzing your body movement. “You're up to something.” You grin immediately, a laugh bubbling up as you round the table as if you're trying to corner him, and he doesn't waste time standing and quickly rounding the table from you.

“Hey, don't make me spill my beer,” He says warily, holding his beer up by the neck of the bottle. You smile deviously as you slowly trail along the side of the table, still holding the mystery item behind your back and he doesn't like how you're looking at him as he mimics your movements ready to bolt to the exit any second. “Okay, we're playing that game.”

He exhales exasperatedly as he immediately swerves and runs out the door, holding his beer securely as he hears you run after him. “Logan! Get back here!” The laugh in your voice is mischievous and he doesn't trust you as the two of you run past Jean and Ororo, they look after the both of you surprised as they never expected Logan to run away from you of all people.

“Get em, girl!” Ororo cheers as they watch you round the corner after Logan, he's trying to lose you by running in front of innocent students and taking unexpected turns and it isn't long for you to have him cornered.

“Aye, have mercy.” He says your name with defeat as he clutches his beer to his chest, he somehow managed to save it from even spilling a drop during the chase and it makes you giggle as you step forward building the anticipation before getting to him, and he only watches with a close eye as you do. Only when you're within an inch from him, your face almost intimately close to his, do you notice his adam's apple bob up and down with trepidation, his eyes fluttering slightly as he's aware of how close you are to him.

You slap the magnet onto his face.

He blinks once then twice as the magnet sticks securely on to his cheek. You gasp with unadulterated joy, a cheer pulled out of you as your curiosity has finally been fulfilled.

“It does stick! Oh, this is gonna be so fun!” His face falls as he realizes what this concurs. He's become your magnetic plaything as he remembers the millions of magnets that are currently adorned on the fridge door.

“No, don't you think about it.” He grumbles as he pulls the magnet off his cheek, the crabby cat image only intensifying his dismay for your new upcoming hobby. “Oh Wolvie, it's all I can think about.” You tease as you gently squeeze his cheek, walking away feeling rejuvenated.

[calliopesdiary]

i wish i were heather...

synopsis: you were under the impression that you were stable in your secret long-term relationship with three of the four marauders, until it becomes clear that you aren't the girl they want anymore. (so you think). will you lose them before its too late? or have you already?

pairings: fem!reader x poly!marauders ` poly!marauders x lily evans

warnings: NO LILY SLANDER!! SHE'S PERFECT AND BEAUTIFUL AND ITS NOT HER FAULT!!, cusswords, ANGST, depressing, a blip of reader skipping meals on the radar but it's srsly nothing crazy, insecure reader, the marauders besides peter are dicks, reader is a little naive, the marauders borderline cheat on you, no happy ending, there might still be one thoughhh, possibly slytherin!reader if you squint?,

part one in the conan gray series

A/N!!: In some of the fic i use colors to represent a certain character! Orange is Lily, Red is James, and Green is Barty :3

wc; 2.4k

LIFE WAS AMAZING, which is not usually how stories begin.

You felt so safe and secure in your secret relationship with Hogwarts' once most eligible bachelors... The Marauders.

The rush of excitement that coursed through your veins every time you shared a hidden glance with Remus, or hiding in the showers of the Gryffindor boys locker room with James after his quidditch victory, and sneaking off to empty classrooms where anyone from anywhere could catch you with Sirius.

It was heavenly, these boys were all you would ever need.

until... now.

You were in Remus' sweater, he said it looked better on you than it did him. If only he knew how much you liked him...

The fireplace erupted with a citrine glow, illuminating the Gryffindor common room beautifully.

Most impactfully, it lit up Remus' scar-kissed features.

His freckles looked as if they were painted onto his face with careful hands by a renaissance painter.

His eyes half-lidded from his lack of sleep from the incoming full moon that was slowly approaching, it pained you to know how much they hurt him.

For once, Remus wasn't in a sweater. Since his was rested comfortably on your body, as your scent comforted The Wolf greatly.

And his scent comforted you, too.

Remus' book had suddenly landed on your lap, and though it startled you a bit. You didn't bother to ask why, until you sat up.

Remus was locked in a passionate conversation with Gryffindor's resident golden girl, Lily Evans.

"Evans, it's lovely to see you."

"Same to you, Lupin."

Godric, was she beautiful.

"I just stopped by to see if you had gotten any of the Defence Against The Dark Arts homework done?"

Lily Evans was as radiant as an angel who blessed anyone with her presence.

"I have; actually, I just finished my paper."

Remus seemed mesmerized by her, the golden gleam from the fire painting her features gorgeously in that same citrine glow as Remus'.

"Could I have a look of it? Not to copy it- obviously, I just want to see how others are wording the question."

You weren't even half as pretty as Lily.

"Of course, and I know you'd never cheat."

"You're the smartest witch in our year."

You tried not to mind other girls flirting with your boys.

Just because you knew that later that night they'd be back to your boys again, and only yours.

As she was about to go, she planted a soft kiss on the side of Remus' cheek, leaving him blushing softly as he bid her goodbye.

Your heart clenched, it was merely a pleasantry. You were being dramatic.

"Are you alright, dove?" Your head perked up at the sound of Remus' voice.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm fine." You mused, albeit a bit absentmindedly.

"Are you tired?" He asked carefully.

"I am, actually..." You forced a sweet smile onto your lips, as he leaned down to kiss them softly.

That kiss was the last one that felt anything more than a chore, an obligation.

That was also your last kiss with Remus.

Cheering James on at the quidditch pitch was just the thrill you needed after that melancholy moment with Remus.

He soared through the field like he was on top of the world, the players scattered around the pitch for one common goal: to win.

Gryffindor had won the game with 60 points, and James had caught the snitch like usual.

This game was also a rain game.

Just as you were about to head down to showers when you spotted Lily excitedly trailing after James.

You knew full well that James chased Lily tirelessly since they started school, that was also well before you came into the picture.

You also knew that she wanted nothing to do with him or the other marauders, so what was with her infatuation now?

Why your boys? She couldn't find her own boys?

But maybe she was just being friendly, right? The boys would never ever cheat on you... right?

You heard Lily giggle as James so graciously held the curtain open for her to enter the locker room, and your heart clenched.

You followed them in, jealously.

"James?" You called, as James poked his head from the changing area. Sweat glistening off his abs.

"Hi, Y/N." He shut the curtain behind him, as if he had something to hide.

Also; he barely just called you by your first name.

"You didn't come to see me after the game?" You questioned, grazing his cheek gently as he spoke."

"Sorry, Y/N. It was a long one." He excused, as he clearly looked a bit flushed.

"You look red, are you dehydrated?"

"Godric, y/n. you are hardly my mum."

You giggled as if it was a joke, yet he seemed quite stone faced.

You cleared your throat embarrassingly once you realized.

"I... just wanted to congratulate you on another win." You forcefully smiled again.

"Thank you, I really appreciate that." Then, he flashed his classic grin at you.

The grin he hadn't flashed at you since he realized he genuinely liked you.

What the fuck?

"Victory kiss?" You asked quietly, with some false hope mixed in.

"Of course." He pecked your forehead quickly, before hurrying off back to his changing area.

And with that, you had also left the steamy tent and outside into the cool, soft rain once more.

A forehead kiss? whenever he used to give you victory kisses they'd be full-on make outs in that same changing room or the showers.

James was falling out of love with you, and you knew it.

Luckily, you could easily disguise your tears with the excuse of it raining.

"Victory kiss?" Lily mewled, from her position on the stool in his changing spot.

"Just on the forehead, lovely."

You stopped showing up to breakfast, as the one time you decided to go Lily was sat in your spot next to Sirius.

Dorcas was nearly at her wits end with the boys and their antics.

The motley crew of Slytherins were the only ones who knew of your relationship, and they were pissed off.

"Treasure, surely they aren't fucked enough to know that you are the best thing they've ever had!" Barty explained, laying upside-down on his bed across from you.

"I-It's no use, Jr." You cried softly, mirroring his position yet on your bed instead. The tears (and blood) rushing to your hairline instead of your face because Dorcas said 'Your makeup is too pretty to ruin, love.' .

"There is a use, Y/L/N. we'll kill them-"

"Jr, absolutely not." Regulus chided, rubbing your shoulder. "She's clearly upset, I don't see the issue."

"Murder is never a good option, Barty." Dorcas scolded gently.

"So what are we gonna do then? My Treasure can't go on like this!"

"You said you've already talked to James and Remus? Maybe you can go talk to... eh... Sirius." Clearly, that name was hard for Regulus to get out.

"*Sniff* yeah, yeah- I'll go talk to him..." You sat up half-hazardously, and strutted out of the dorm-room to go (hopefully) save your relationship.

You still remember the third of December.

Sirius lounged on the couch while speaking with the other marauders, about some sort of prank on the other group of Slytherins.

"And then, we'll-"

"Hi, Siri." You sat next to him, beaming up at him (hopefully).

"...y/n." He greeted casually, before continuing to talk.

Your smile faded, as he continued to talk to your other boyfriends friends about this horrible prank.

Instead of leaving, you sat quietly next to them, as if you were some decoration or trophy wife.

This was truly your breaking point, as you saw Lily sit down on the couches of the common room as she caught all of their attention, you hadn't seemed to do that for ages. Though, she was wearing something familiar...

Remus'... sweater...

Remus'- YOUR Remus' sweater.

"How's it look?" Lily asked, giving them a twirl. Their eyes locked on her.

"Gorgeous, doll." Sirius flirted, shooting her a wink.

"Truly a sight for sore eyes." James grinned.

"It looks better on you than it did me." Remus took her hand and helped her sit down on the couch in between him and James.

That's exactly what he said to you...

He put his arm 'round her shoulder,

suddenly you got colder.

She's got them mesmerized... while you die.

But how could you hate her?

She's such an angel...

But then again you wished she were dead.

"Why would you ever kiss me?" You asked impulsively.

"What?" James looked up from Lily, all eyes on you.

"I mean- I'm not even half as pretty."

"Y/n, You're overthinking it-" Remus started it.

"You gave her your sweater!" You shot back.

"It's just polyester!" Remus defended.

"But you like her better." You felt the tears rush to your waterline.

"We're done." You whispered, leaving Lily looking so confused and the common room dead quiet.

"What does she mean by that...?" Lily seemed horrified.

"We... weren't really dating.." Sirius attempted to defend.

"Yes, we were, you tosser!" James shoved him.

"You said yourself that you were bored of her!" Remus stated matter-of-factly.

"Was I seriously the other woman?" Lily mewled, her hands clutching the sides of her head.

"Nonono- No, we were planning to break up with her but- because we all wanted you-" Sirius tried again.

"Then don't fuck around with her feelings just to get me!" Lily yelled, standing up quickly.

"I appreciate the admiration- but I need time to process, okay? You all were absolute... arseholes to her, I'll admit." Lily started,

"Are you saying no?" James quickly cut in.

"...No..." Lily ended.

After crying your eyes out to Barty and Regulus over your breakup, December 7th rolled around.

The day that students were meant to be studying for their OWLS and other end of term exams.

You would usually be in the library 24/7.

Lily, had finally come around and accepted the boys' proposal, and their relationship became public quickly.

Lily obviously still felt this bitter taste of guilt in her mouth, as did all of them.

So today, Lily had convinced them all to apologize to you for borderline cheating and lying and manipulating and gaslighting-.

But, you were nowhere to be found.

"Regulus! Regulus, wait up!" Lily ran through the hallways to get to her.

"Evans, Brother.. Potter... and Lupin.." She said those last three names with utter disgust.

"We're trying to find Y/n, have you seen her?" Remus asked quietly, he was definitely feeling the most guilt.

"Y/n? Well, If she was here, I think she'd completely refuse to see you lot." Regulus explained bluntly.

"W-What do you mean "If she was here"?" James questioned.

"I mean, Her, Junior., and the Rosier twins completed their OWLS early and hightailed it to Junior's holiday house for the rest of the break." He explained casually.

"What?" Sirius scowled.

"What the hell is my girl-... Y/n doing with them?" James had the same expression as Sirius.

"They are simply better friends then you were to her, hm? I don't blame her."

"When will she be back?" Lily asked breathlessly.

"End of December, If she ever returns." Regulus strolled away, potions book in hand.

"...We fucked up."

Fin.

[chvoswxtch]

revelation

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: billy's questioning leads to more than one epiphany you weren't ready for.

warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, lots of angst, billy being the shithead he is

word count: 4.2k

a/n: I know y'all were big mad at me last update. I don't know if this one makes up for it or not. but...enjoy. :) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Flickers of flesh colored light began to flash in your brain. It was as if each of your senses were rebooting one by one, your body slowly clawing its way out of the darkened abyss you’d been lost in. Murmurs of conversation and clinks of metal crept into your eardrums. While that sickly sweet artificial chemical taste lingered on your tongue, a dull throbbing was emanating from the back of your head. Trying to inhale a deep breath, a familiar strong cologne seemed to flip the switch of consciousness. 

“Ah, there she is.”

As your eyes fluttered open, you fought through the haze of disorientation, forcing your vision to clear. A blur of green approached slowly, and after blinking a few times, the fuzzy silhouette came into focus. Billy knelt down in front of you, a serpentine smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. 

Your bones felt like they were made of stone, but when you tried to move, you realized it wasn’t just a mental restriction, but also a physical one. Glancing downwards, you saw that your wrists and legs had been bound to the chair you were in with black leather straps. White hot rage struck through your nervous system like a bolt of lightning. 

“What the hell is going on?”

“You tell me.”

“I'm the one tied to a chair here, asshole.”

Billy let out an amused chuckle at your sharp snap, his dark brown eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“Just a precaution, darlin’. I've seen you in action, and I like my face the way it is.”

Narrowing your eyes in resentment, your lips were set in a tight line as you clenched your jaw while simultaneously clenching your fists. Billy’s eyes flickered down to your hands before returning to your heated glare, and he let out a deep exhale through his nose. Standing up fully, he grabbed a wooden crate to his left and dragged it over towards you. After sitting down on the edge of it and folding his arms over his chest, he gave a faint nod of his head in your direction.

“I need to know what you know.”

“About what?”

“Frank and Madani.”

Pure annoyance laced with confusion quickly creased between your brows, and your exasperation was evident in your tone.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Billy. That’s what this is about? I told you I don't know anything. Okay, whatever you and Madani have Frank working on-”

Billy suddenly cut you off, snapping his fingers before pointing his index finger in your direction.

“Ah, see, that right there. Madani and I don't work together. We never have. Anvil has a contract with Homeland, but my business is with them, not her.”

Billy paused for a moment, letting those words linger in the air. He searched your face for any flicker of recognition that would give you away, but all he could see in your expression was perplexity. And that you were royally pissed off. Either you had one hell of a poker face, or you truly didn’t know anything. He was determined to find out.

“And I haven't assigned anything to Frank in almost two months, because he told me he needed some personal time to take care of somethin’. So imagine my surprise when you tell me that he’s got some business goin’ on with me and Madani.”

Every word that left Billy’s lips left you feeling confused. It was like he was single handedly ripping up the pieces of what you thought you knew regarding this entire situation with Frank. The ferocity of your anger dulled slightly, becoming overshadowed by disillusionment. 

“I…I don't understand.”

“Well that makes two of us.”

In an instant, your brain began to replay every single conversation with Frank over the last two months, trying to figure out what you were missing. You could feel in your gut that the answer was right in front of your face, but you were struggling to figure it out, and it left you feeling immensely frustrated. Dropping your gaze to the concrete floor beneath your feet, your eyes darted back and forth, like you were reading some invisible text written in the cracks.

I’m helpin’ Madani with somethin’. 

It’s personal.

Those were the key phrases that kept popping up in your head. They were the ones sticking out from the rest, and your foggy brain was relentlessly trying to figure out why. Closing your eyes, you tried to shift your mindset. You had to treat this like a story. You had to walk through what you knew, sort through the pieces Frank had given you, and connect the red string on the mental evidence board in your brain.

Thinking back to the conversation where you’d confronted Frank at his apartment about his strange behavior, you willed your brain to focus on what he’d said, and how he said it.

“He…he said he had a new assignment.”

Billy had been watching you closely, paying attention to the flash of varying emotions crossing your face. He could see that you were trying to figure something out in your head, and your words made him sit up straighter. 

“What did he say the assignment was?”

You remembered Frank looking remorseful as he sat on his couch, trying to explain the situation, but he had also looked…guarded. He didn’t maintain eye contact with you the entire time, which was strange, and when he did look at you, there had been something in his eyes besides guilt. It was a flicker of something you couldn’t decipher, because he was hiding it from you. Whatever it was, he didn’t want you to see it.

“He didn’t. He just said it was personal. He wouldn’t tell me anything about it.”

“What did he tell you?”

That feeling of frustration you’d felt during that initial conversation bubbled up once again, and you let out an irritated exhale through your nose as you opened your eyes and tilted your head back to look upwards. Wherever Billy had you, it appeared to be underground. There weren’t any windows, and the fluorescent overhead lights were harsh, aggravating your sensitive eyes. You swiftly shut them again to block out the light, trying hard to conjure that memory of Frank once more.

But all you could see was your mother. The unpleasant glare above brought you back to a sterile hospital room, and instead of Frank’s deep voice, you heard the daunting beeping on the machines that had controlled her fate with their wires, and the struggle of her labored breathing. Her body had turned against her, stolen her time, but it hadn’t been able to take her feisty spirit. 

Clenching your fists, you tried desperately to escape the memory, but your mother had always been as stubborn as you were. The phantom feeling of the chilled flesh that barely covered the bones of her hand touching your skin felt so real and vivid, you didn’t know if Billy had knocked you out again or not.

Her familiar voice from one of her last good moments, exhausted with illness, but still melodic with whimsy, played in your ears.

“Can you force the tide to come back to the shore?”

A furrow of confusion had settled between your brows at her interjection, and you’d refocused your attention from the book in your hands towards her.

“Did they up your meds?”

“Ha ha ha, smartass.”

Setting down the book you’d been reading her, you smiled at ever present sarcasm, and you’d rolled your eyes playfully.

“No mom, I can’t force the tide to come back to the shore.”

“And why is that?”

There had been a glimmer of playfulness in her eyes, even though they were slightly sunken in and surrounded by dark circles. You had resisted the urge to answer literally about gravity and the moon, and instead let her continue with whatever point she was trying to make.

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

She’d reached out and placed her hand on top of yours, and her skin had been so cool to the touch, felt so fragile, it had made your heart constrict in your chest.

“Because it comes on its own. You just have to be patient, and let it come to you.”

Patience had never been your strong suit, especially when it came to putting things together, or trying to figure something out. If something didn’t click fast enough, you would get frustrated and try to coerce it, to make it make sense, which usually never worked in your favor. It wasn’t until you stopped trying so hard and took a step back that you had your biggest breakthroughs. Clearly, it was a lesson you were still trying to learn.

“Y/N. What did Frank say-”

“Can you shut the hell up? I’m trying to think.”

Billy narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips when you snapped at him through your gritted teeth, but he obliged. Letting out a quiet shaky breath, you resisted the urge to give into the emotions building up behind your eyelids from that memory. You slowly unclenched your fists and relaxed your jaw. 

Quit trying to force fragments together. Focus. Let it come to you.

Instead of rushing through the memories and waiting for the answers to pop out, you replayed them slowly, carefully analyzing over every frame, dissecting every word. Frank had been very cautious with his phrasing, but that wasn’t a coincidence. 

I’m helpin’ Madani with somethin’. 

Madani gave me some intel. 

Madani needed someone she could trust.

“He said that he was helping Madani-”

Madani. Frank said he was helping Madani. Not once had Frank mentioned Billy. He had only ever said Dinah’s name. 

Opening your eyes, you slowly lowered your head, looking straight forward at Billy. He arched one of his dark brows, an expectant look on his face.

“Said he was helpin’ Madani with what?”

For a moment you stared at Billy in complete silence. Something wasn’t right. As soon as you had let it slip in your office that Frank was working with Madani, Billy had physically reacted. There was something that had flashed in his eyes, darkening them to momentary blackness. His voice was cold when he’d questioned you about it, almost…angry. You’d initially thought it was because he thought you knew something you weren’t supposed to about Frank’s “assignment”. 

But now you realized it was because he didn’t know about it.

“Why didn’t Frank tell you?”

There was unmistakable suspicion in your voice, and it visibly caught Billy off guard. He narrowed his eyes slightly, cocking his head to the side as he looked at you.

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to figure out.”

Frank hadn’t mentioned anything about what he was doing with Madani to Billy, his best friend. The man he served side by side with for years, had formed a brotherhood with, who he had considered part of his family. That made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and a dreadful chill straightened your spine. He hadn’t been able to tell you exactly what was going on, but he’d at least given you something. 

Frank had mentioned owing Madani a debt, but he was loyal to a fault, and the fact that he hadn’t told Billy set off warning bells in your head. But Billy’s extreme reaction to being purposefully left in the dark was what set your nervous system ablaze with unease. 

The idea of Frank working with Madani without his knowledge seemed to set Billy off, triggering a volatile chain of events. He’d drugged you, kidnapped you from Curtis’ apartment, was essentially holding you hostage, and now he was interrogating you to figure out what you knew. 

One of Frank’s cryptic explanations abruptly parted through the lingering clouds of fogginess in your brain, shedding a blinding light on the most important piece that had been hidden in the shadows of your subconscious. 

“Oh my God.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper and shrouded in disbelief.

It’s connected to someone I know.

You remembered how Frank had stiffened when he’d said that, how his face had hardened to stone. His voice had been quiet, layered with an ominous undertone and barely concealed vitriol. He’d nearly morphed into a man you didn’t recognize right in front of your eyes, and it had made you shiver with discomfort.

And suddenly it clicked. Betrayal. That cold flicker in his eyes he tried to hide was betrayal.

“It’s you.”

Billy watched as the canvas of your face morphed into a portrait of realization and horror.

He visibly stiffened at those words, his lips pressing into a firm line, emphasizing the sharpness of his jaw. 

Billy. All of this was because of Billy. Whatever Madani had found, it was connected to him. That’s why she brought it to Frank. Little moments started to stand out in your head that made you wonder just how long ago Madani had planted the seed of doubt in Frank’s mind. Looking back, he’d acted strangely when you’d mentioned Billy’s name recently, but it was so subtle that you hadn’t even picked up on it.

But him being adamant about leaving you with Curtis, someone you’d never even heard about or met until yesterday, should've been a huge clue.

Knowing that what was causing the divide between you and Frank was none other than the man currently standing in front of you and whatever he had done, you were swiftly filled with an anger that turned your blood molten. Your disbelief and horror slowly hardened into a wall of ice, but your eyes were aflame with resentment.

“What did you do.”

It wasn’t a question, it was an accusation, and the way you grit it through your teeth demanded an answer. Billy’s eyes showed no hint of remorse, and he made no attempt to correct whatever conclusions you were drawing in your head in regards to his character. He rose to his feet, taking a step forward to tower over you, staring down into the flames of rancor blazing in your eyes with a steely gaze of his own. 

“I made something of myself.”

His voice was crisp and clear. There was no layer of apology, no waver of regret. Whatever he’d done, Billy felt justified in it. 

His arrogance had always pissed you off.

Slowly tilting your head to the side, you stared up at him in clear challenge, your tone razor sharp and dripping with venom.

“Yeah? What did it cost?”

The edge of his mouth twitched at your taunt. Grabbing your wrists that were strapped down to the arms of the chair, he leaned forward, getting right in your face as he spoke in an aggravated tone.

“I wasn't handed nothin’. I had to earn everything I got. I had to make some tough decisions along the way, maybe did a few things I'm not so proud of. Empires aren’t built without sacrifice.”

One of the last things Billy had said to you that day in your office when you’d mentioned Frank working with Madani was that some secrets were better left buried. That choice of phrasing left you with a gut feeling that it wasn’t what Billy had left buried, but who. 

“But you didn’t sacrifice anything, did you Billy? No…you sacrificed someone, and it’s come back to haunt you. So who was it? Someone important to Dinah? Or to Frank?”

“It doesn’t matter.” 

Billy snapped, suddenly getting defensive. His dark brown eyes had eclipsed into pools of disdain, and his lips were twisted into a faint snarl.

“I’m not lettin’ that bitch destroy everything I built.”

Rising to his full height once again, Billy’s expression shifted back into a passive and more controlled one as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

“I’m gonna send Frankie an invite to do a little trade, you for whatever he’s got.”

Letting out a dry scoff, you shook your head as you stared up at him.

“You’re really more concerned about losing your wealth than your best friend?”

“If he digs too deep, he’s gonna find somethin’ he ain’t gonna like, and the war he waged on New York is gonna look like a fuckin’ daydream compared the nightmare he’s gonna bring to my doorstep.”

Billy’s words seemed to pour over you like a bucket of ice, your fiery rage fizzling into frozen perplexity.

“War on New York? What are you talking about?”

Billy’s eyes flickered up from the phone in his hand, meeting your confused gaze. He arched one of his dark brows, looking at you curiously. 

“Oh c’mon, you haven’t figured it out yet? You’re a clever girl. You didn’t put together the pieces I gave you?”

“What pieces?”

“The gift I left on your desk.”

The file. The one that had Frank’s name on it. You’d had a sneaking suspicion Billy was the one that left it, but you never asked him about it, or paid it any attention after your argument with Frank. A furrow of annoyance settled between your brows.

“I never read it.”

Billy seemed genuinely surprised by that, and also confused.

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t my business, and Frank found it anyway and took it.”

He eyed you silently for a moment before slipping his phone back into his pocket and sitting back down on the edge of the crate. Billy cocked his head to the side slightly.

“He tell you how his family died?”

Immediately, you went rigid. A wave of emotions crested within you. The recollection of Frank’s vulnerability in opening up about his tragic loss was fresh. It wasn’t something you’d forget anytime soon, or ever. Hearing the grief in his voice, seeing the pain in his eyes; the worst day of Frank’s life was seared into your memory as deeply as the memory of your own. Billy bringing it up so casually incensed you all over again.

“Why does that matter?”

Billy let out a deep exhale of irritation through his nose at your defensive tone. 

“Did he tell you how they died?”

He repeated his words in a more firm voice, holding your heated gaze.

“Yes, you dick. What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

Instead of being angry at your insult, a smirk curled at the edge of Billy’s mouth. There was a wicked gleam in his eye, and it filled you with a sickening feeling of foreboding. 

“Pop quiz, sweetheart. Who were the three gangs the Punisher took out?”

Bewilderment wiped any lingering emotion from your face. Billy’s question seemed to send a shock through your brainwaves, causing a delay between it and your mouth.

“What?”

“C’mon, this is an easy one. You wrote an article about the guy. Who were they?”

Billy’s eyes twinkled with amusement under the harsh fluorescents, clearly enjoying knowing something you didn’t. He was taunting you, and despite knowing better than to give into his little game, your curiosity got the better of you.

“The Dogs of Hell, the Kitchen Irish, and the Mexican Cartel.”

Billy’s lips spread into a pleased smirk at your reluctant answer, and he gave you a faint not of his head.

“Good girl. Now, you had a uh, mentor, at the Bulletin. Ben, right?” 

The mention of Ben’s name sent a pang through you, but Billy’s sudden switch in topics from the Punisher’s victims to Ben gave you mental whiplash. He didn’t give you more than a second to react before he continued.

“He wrote an article a few years ago about a little shootout, ended in a massacre. Remind me, where was that?”

Anxiety shot through you, making every single hair on your body stand to attention. 

“Central Park.”

“And there was one survivor. What was his name?”

The apprehension you felt was evident in the way you lightly gripped onto the arms of the chair. You hadn’t known that answer when Ben originally worked on that article, but you knew it now. Trying to keep up the strong front you were putting on, you attempted to keep your voice even.

“His name was never released.”

“No, it wasn’t. But when he woke up from that coma and found out his entire family had been killed in that shootout, he sure as hell made sure that New York would never forget the one they gave him.”

Billy watched the way your expression transitioned from translucent coolness, to perplexity, and finally wary hesitance. Keeping his eyes locked on you, he slowly rose from the crate, stalking towards you, but instead of coming to a stop in front of you like he had earlier, he began to circle you like a predator. 

“Tell me sweetheart, who was there that day?”

“Why does that-”

“Just answer the question.”

Letting out a sharp exhale through your nose, you began to rattle off the details you remembered from the article.

“The Dogs of Hell, the Kitchen Irish, and the-”

Immediately, you froze. Billy came to a stop behind you, and you could almost feel the way he was staring at the back of your head intensely.

“And?”

His voice was calm, but you could detect a hint of amusement. He was enjoying this, forcing you to solve his little riddle. But this time, you didn’t want to put the pieces together. You didn’t want to solve this puzzle. You wanted to run away from it. 

“The Mexican Cartel.”

The words were barely a decibel above a whisper when they left your lips, but in the silence of the space, they seemed to roar in your ears. Your hands were now gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that your knuckles had gone stark white, the flesh stretched taut over the bone. 

Feeling Billy’s hands settle on your shoulders, you flinched, and he squeezed them roughly in response. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your neck as he bent down to speak directly into your ear.

“What’s his name?”

Billy was a master manipulator. He was toying with you, trying to get a rise out of you by messing with your head. That’s all this was. It was a cruel trick, trying to make you think that the man who had single handedly wiped out the three largest gangs in New York City was the John Doe from the hospital. The he was-

“C’mon, you’re a smart girl. I can see the gears turning in your head. You know his name. Tell me who the Punisher-”

“The Punisher is dead.”

The sharpness and volume of your voice seemed to echo around the space you were currently trapped in. 

“Dead, huh?”

Billy gave your shoulders another firm squeeze before letting go and appearing in front of you again. He looked down at you, taking in the way your eyes were wide open, your breathing had become ragged, and your nails nearly bled from digging them into the wood of the chair so hard. He knelt down in front of you, brushing your hair away from your face, causing you to flinch at his touch, which seemed to annoy him.

He ran his hand through the strands of his raven hair, pushing it back into its perfectly gelled style as he let out a deep exhale through his nose and glanced around absentmindedly.

“He should be. Shoulda died a long time ago. Hell, that bullet to the head shoulda put him down for good. But that stubborn son of a bitch just refuses to die.”

Shutting your eyes, you could see Frank in the cabin. The golden sunlight coming through the window, shining on his tan skin. His warm brown eyes locked on yours, making you feel like he could see right into your soul. The roughness of his calloused palms stroking your cheek while tucking your hair behind your ear. The velvet baritone of his voice echoing in your ears.

We uh…we were at Central Park. We had this uh…this tradition, ya’know. Every time I came home from a tour, we’d pack a picnic and go, make a whole day of it. 

I don’t uh…I don’t remember when the shootin’ started.

I…made peace with it, ya’know…laid it to rest in my own way. 

It was there. It was right there. Frank had inadvertently told you the truth that day, and you hadn’t even realized.

Billy could see the revelation you’d had when you opened your eyes. He could see the evidence of the truth shining along your bottom lash line. You were so thunderstruck by your epiphany, you didn’t budge this time when Billy reached out to brush a stray tear away from your face.

“Nah, he ain’t dead sweetheart. He's been right by your side this whole time. And when he finds out I've got you, he’s gonna come for you.”

It didn’t matter what Frank had found on Billy. As soon as he found out what Billy had done to you, he was coming. But it wasn’t Frank who was coming.

It was the Punisher.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawksfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[emmyrosee]

single dad tattoo artist osamu miya who lets his little girl color in his tattoos there i said it

NO YOU SHOULD SAY IT BC YOURE RIGHT HOMIE

Just tired dad Osamu who loves his tiny terror more than words, more than he can fathom, but still sometimes plops his little girl on the couch next to him with washable markers and some paper, and tells her only slightly serious “okay, but whatever you do, don’t color my tattoos okay?” so he can take a lil nap.

And Rumi just giggles a bit and nods, and sure enough within a few minutes, after osamu’s eyes slowly drift to sleep, she’s on top of his thigh, tiny hand bracing herself on his chest and coloring in one of the tigers. Then she moves to the massive tree he has wrapped around his thick arm, coating the dark ink with pretty leaves.

Then, she goes to the fox on his left side, using blue for its pretty eyes and putting a nice red collar on it, affectionately dubbing ‘him’ kimchi. The fox itself is colored orange, despite the intention being of a white fox. By that time, osamu’s hour alarm has gone off, and he blinks awake, listening happily while she rambles on about all the tattoos she colored in.

OOOOO OR OR OR when he plops down at his desk to draw some stencils, she’s right next to him on the floor, coloring the intricate ink of the snake, humming softly. She’s focused on the task at hand, and calls for her father’s attention once she finally puts the finishing touches on it. “Daddy, I made him all sorts of blue and green!”

“You sure did, baby,” he hums, scooping her in his big arms and kissing her cheek, relishing in the giggles she gives him. Then, he plops her down on his other side, “daddy’s got a little bit more to do; why don’t you draw me a new tattoo? The other one you drew on me was so good.”

She gasps in excitement before getting to work, using her markers to draw a picture on her father’s leg that will, come tomorrow thanks to his home-kit, become a tattoo that lives forever in the ink adorning his body.

[notjustjavierpena]

King

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: A happy return my dark sugardaddy!joel. It’s truly been too long. I hope you enjoy his dark and looming presence.

Summary: You do what it takes to get that car you’ve wanted for a while.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, sugardaddy/sugarbaby dynamics, abusive relationship, dom/sub dynamics, hint at virginity kink, power dynamics, reader calls joel ‘king’. daddy kink, light bondage, verbal humiliation, demeaning talk about sex work, praise kink, slapping, manhandling, dacryphilia, choking, rough piv sex, cream pie, no aftercare

Word count: 3.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56477767

King

You run your fingers down over the front of your little black dress. It’s not your favorite but it doesn’t matter as it is not the centerpiece of your outfit, mischievously hiding an emerald green set of lingerie underneath it that peeks out from under the hem in the form of a garter belt. 

The silk underwear is new, bought only last week when Joel took you shopping for something new to tear to pieces. He’d chosen this color very carefully but you suspect that it had really been the heart-shaped gap between your legs that had made it sell itself. You knew instantly then, from the way his eyes had darkened and his suit pants had tightened, that it would become a useful weapon in getting what you wanted. Not that you would ever say it out loud (and you suspect that he knows) but Joel is sometimes easy to read, easy to wrap around your finger if you let him do as he pleases. He cares about your happiness and wants but he just doesn’t like to say it out loud, likes to play games so it looks like it is his idea. You’re happy to indulge him in this fantasy if you end up benefiting from it anyway. 

The black dress has no uneven ruffles but you still smooth it out underneath your palms. Then you head to his king-sized bed, toeing off your shoes, and decide to take a nap on your front until he gets home. He doesn’t even know you have a mission. 

Joel arrives home a few hours later. You wake up from the sound of his car crunching the gravel of his driveway, announcing his arrival like an impending hurricane that has consciousness to be merciful but only if it likes. You imagine the scene in your head; the sight of the car coming to a jarring halt, the door being opened and a single foot hitting the solid ground. 

You get out of bed immediately with your heart pounding at the thought of seeing him in just a moment. You leave your shoes behind as you exit the bedroom, tiptoeing out into the hall to peer down at the front door from the top of the enormous staircase. 

You can hear the jingle of his keys and then he is framed in the doorway, a dark shadow in contrast to the pining sunlight outside. He looks around for you for a moment, surveying his large home with a presence that fills the space completely. 

You try to steady your breathing so as to not reveal yourself to be spying on him, taking note of how he carries himself and what mood radiates from him. Sometimes it’s not the right time to ask for things. Sometimes it’s better to just spread your legs or open your mouth. 

However, Joel simply closes the door and lets out a tired, relieved breath, hand coming up to run across his forehead and using two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. His shoulders slump at this moment that he thinks he is alone, and you release a breath that you didn’t know you have been holding in as you find no clenched fists or angry muttering to himself. 

You make your way back to his bedroom and decide that sitting obediently on the edge of the bed, posing as someone who has been waiting to make his life easier, is the best way forward. 

It takes a little while before you hear his footsteps approaching outside the room. He opens the door slowly, entering the room with his still impressive demeanor. You give him a little smile and push yourself to stand, making your way towards him and pecking his lips when you stand in front of him. 

“Hey,” he says, only a hint of warmth in his tired voice. He reaches out to place a hand on your waist, his grip on your body feeling more like a claim than a comfort.

“You look tired,” you note and cup his cheek with your dominant hand. He closes his eyes briefly as if drawing something from your touch, draining something out of you. When he opens them again, they go down to take in your appearance. His grip on your waist tightens. 

“And you look…” he begins but is unsure how to compliment the effort you’ve put into your outfit that’s only for him. It seems like he genuinely wants to say something nice until his eyes narrow in suspicion, “What’s this for?” 

“I want a new car,” you let him tower over you as you decide to be bold in his fatigued state. Your fingers come up to peel the straps of your dress off, letting them droop down over your delicate skin for just a second before pulling the rest of the dress down to pool around your feet. You step out of it, don’t dare smile in case he might see it as smugness.

Joel looks unimpressed, disappointed even. He narrows his eyes further, a flicker of irritation across his face. He lets go of your body as if you are suddenly not interesting anymore, reaches to undo the knot on his tie, “Take one of my old ones. I have plenty… and with the way ya drive I shouldn’t be spendin’ so much goddamn money on somethin’ new and shiny because you’re bored of your other toys.”

“Joel,” you pout, entwining your fingers in front of you to make your arms squeeze your breasts together tightly while you push out your bottom lip. 

“That ain’t my name,” he replies and briefly looks down at your cleavage, “And what? The little princess didn’t like her pony? You’re so fuckin’ spoiled. A dumb cliché.” 

“Daddy,” you correct yourself and he nods once. You walk backward towards the bed, crawling onto it and making sure he watches you with every step you take, teasing the bottomless panties while doing it. You sit on your knees, his favorite submissive position, and smile with the hope of making his dick hard. It’ll make this so much easier, “Please. I can earn it. I can be a good girl.”

“Show me whatcha got,” he tells you, his tone letting you know that his attention is fleeting so you better make use of it now that you have it. 

You lay down on your front, propping yourself up on your elbows by resting your chin in your hands. You give him a sweet, doe-eyed smile, “Honey, you’ve had such a long day.”

“Nope,” he rejects the fantasy with a bored expression but still takes one step closer to the bed, “Try again.”

You try not to let him see the frustration on your face that your first fantasy fell through, recovering quickly by getting up on your slightly-spread knees. You grab the end of the bed, leaning forward to make your position even more provocative. 

“It’s my first time, Daddy,” you say with a pout, blinking your long lashes at him, “I’m a little nervous. I’m so wet between my legs. Can you tell me what’s happening to me?” 

Even as Joel swallows thickly, he shakes his head while he walks to the side of the bed. He stares at you from a few feet away from the edge, “No. Again.” 

You notice that he is getting hard but you know him well enough to tell that it is from the game that you are playing with each other right now and not from how you look or act. He gets off on the power he has over you, and you feel yourself getting excited from it too. 

Power. That’s the one. 

You crawl forward and lay down on your back on the vulgarly huge bed, staring up at him as you swing your legs out over the edge of it. You spread them slowly to make his gaze burn, revealing the heart-shaped hole in your panties and your soaked pussy that he can slide into if he wants. All he has to do is take a few steps forward and lift your thighs over his hips. 

Joel is too easy sometimes but mostly when he’s in one of his good moods. He stands beside the bed not a second later, looking down at you with awaiting eyes. You know exactly which words to make him fuck you until you cry, even feel a little silly that it hadn’t occurred to you the second you saw him enter the house. 

You give him a hazy look, holding your thighs open for him. His gaze bores into yours and you swear that he can read your mind. Even so, you don’t blink or cower under the look of God. 

“You’re my king, Daddy.”

“Attagirl, that’s better,” he praises to make your skin prickle and your chest feel ablaze.

Something in Joel’s eyes darkens with the idea of being superior in every way and the spark of fire that you have ignited only seems to grow when you don’t try to act like this isn’t the case but instead give in and let him know just how beneath him you are. Figuratively and literally. 

He reaches for his belt, unbuckling it with rough hands as he plans your demise in his head, all kindness seeping out of his face as if the way he praised you seconds ago simply didn’t happen. There’s something about those Shinigami eyes, teasing the border between fear and arousal. The urgency of his movements tells you that it’ll hurt for days but the pretty things that you’ll receive in return are worth not being able to stand upright for a while. You calm your beating heart by listing cars in your mind, choosing colors, models, and leather seats. 

You return to reality when you hear Joel’s fingers snap in front of your face. He sneers, kneeling on the bed with one knee and pulling off his tie completely, “Don’tcha fuckin’ think you get to decide what car you’re gettin’, honey. If you want one, I decide. We clear?”

You watch with pleading eyes, knowing you should say something but faltering because all you want to do is complain about his decision. There goes that dream of an expensive Aston Martin, the one that has kept you scrolling through your phone.

“You dare make your King wait?” He spits harshly when you don’t answer quickly enough, his eyes going practically black with rage. There’s no emotion in them anymore, not even when you whimper at his tone. He reaches out for your arms, violently yanking them towards himself so he can wrap the tie around your wrists, and the panic that you feel suddenly starts to make you cry. He ties a painful knot, securing your arms tightly until he pushes them over your head, “You don’t behave then you don’t getta touch.” 

You whine with tears at the corners of your eyes, looking away in shame in the way that he likes. However, it is actually a punishment because you do really like touching him - or at least just hold onto him, which you still can but you don’t dare move your arms back down - when he fucks you. The avoidance of his powerful eyes earns you a slap to your right breast, and you yelp in surprise. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you babble, barely able to croak out a coherent reply whilst you twist on the sheets from the unprepared sting to your chest. As you turn your body to the side, subconsciously trying to protect yourself from more painful strikes, you curl in on yourself and thus pull your legs shut, “You know best, I-I know. I understand.”

“Lie still, ya bimbo. I saw that hole between ya legs drippin’ wet, so you’re gonna lemme use it or you won’t get as much as a damn penny for your stupid new obsession,” he curls his calloused hands around your thighs until they dent the skin and maneuvers you onto back once more. He holds your legs open, knees pressing into the mattress until you feel as though your hips might dislocate. He stares down between your legs, smiling to himself at the heart shape in your panties. The stitching of it is coated in your slick, obscene in how creamy and white it is compared to the emerald color of the fabric. Joel makes a primal sound, “Daddy fuckin’ likes. God, I am gonna ruin ya, baby, ruin this well-behaved pussy.”

“Just for you, Daddy. It’s all just for you, I promise, money or not,” you cry quietly with your bottom lip sticking out, wiggling your hips as much as you can under his powerful weight to show how desperate you are for him. You want to tell him that he already has ruined you. Oh, how thoroughly he has ruined you and ruined everyone else for you. However, no one should make the mistake of thinking you have not let him, no, you have waited for him to find you in a sea of unimportant and tedious nobodies, and fuck, you love him for it. Even if he makes you cry. 

“That’s right, just f’me,” he smiles down at you almost tenderly whilst removing one hand from your thigh to undo his pants. You smile with wet cheeks, eyes glazed over as he hurries to get his cock out, the head red and angry from not having enough attention. You put on a show of looking like your life depends entirely upon whether he gets inside of you soon. 

“You want Daddy to fuck ya? Fuck ya so I’ll give in like I always fuckin’ do?” He aligns himself with you, gliding the thick head of his length through your soaked folds. 

“Please,” you choke out feebly when he starts to spear you on his dick, feeding you inch by inch with his girth until your whole lower body buzzes with greed. Your tied-up hands grip the sheets above your head, your breath shaky as he drapes your thighs over his hips when he has bottomed out inside you. 

Your voice wavers as he starts moving inside of you, setting a painful pace that has your eyes rolling back into your skull, your body thrashing, and your moans climbing in pitch like you are possessed. He knows what you like and you can feel he might be generous about it today. After all, you’ve put in so much effort to look nice and what would a King be if he couldn’t exceed in everything? That means even your pleasure.

He leans over you when you tighten your legs around his waist, rough hands settling on your hip bones so he can grind harshly into you. You beg for him, pleading his name as if in prayer again and again. His pelvis nudges at your swollen yet untouched clit. It causes you to scream and grab harder at the sheets as your orgasm builds up fast. You sob on the shaking bed as he puts more effort into each thrust. The head of his cock molds you to fit him each time, reaching something inside of you that has you sizzling with ecstasy in a way that no man has ever made possible before. You didn’t even know you could come like this, so intensely, before you met him but despite his talent, he is cruel even in his generosity. 

“You’re gettin’ fucked for a dumb car, you know that?” He growls above you, staring down at your wide eyes and open mouth. He moans with a smirk, “You know what that makes ya?” 

He keeps you on the edge with his thrusts, teasing an orgasm that he doesn’t allow to come yet. In the most frustrating of ways, you find that even if he exceeds in making you come, it’s not a given that he’ll just hand it over to you. Nothing is ever out of the goodness of his heart. You nod frantically as if it’ll make him think you are anything other than pathetic, “Yes! Oh God, yes, please.”

“Say it, sweetheart,” he demands, splaying a hand on your chest and letting it travel up to rest on your neck. However, he doesn’t squeeze to watch your face heat up in panic or push his merciless thumb into your windpipe. Instead, he waits for you to follow orders. 

“A whore, Daddy,” you reply with a whimper, driven crazy by the unreleased tension in your lower belly. You scrunch your eyebrows, “Please— ah, l-let me come.”

“That’s right, a filthy, little, gold-diggin’ whore,” he lets out a sound that’s a mix between a laugh and a moan. Those words make your cunt clench around his cock, walls squeezing enough to make him switch up his pace. His thrusts become sharp and erratic, sending you hurtling towards your high so quickly that you throw your head back and involuntarily twist your arms as much as you can. 

You come with Joel’s violent grip on your throat, with your tits bouncing in the skimpy outfit and your pussy gushing on his dick when your clit happily gets its way. He follows behind you, panting in exhaustion as he finally gets pushed over the edge by how you pulse around him with each beat of your fluttering heart. He is warm inside you, making a mess of your panties with how much already spills out of you around his girth. 

It’s intense even in its aftermath. None of you move for a moment and the body heat radiating from you to him and vice versa has you sticking to each other. Joel has a palm on the bed while the other grabs at one of your thighs that are still slung around his body. He strokes up and down to soothe you but only to slip loose of the hot choke of your pussy. 

You look up at him with a soft whimper when you’re left empty, knowing not to say any actual words yet. Silently, he unties your wrist and you gaze longingly at him as he leans over you to do so. He is so commanding even when he has not uttered a word. Above you, he looks so beautifully disheveled - some of his curls have fallen into his forehead, one sticks to the sweat there - and when he is done, he quietly starts unbuttoning his shirt. 

Once naked on his chest, he stares and thinks about something for less than a second. He is quick in his evaluation of the situation, finally stepping out of his bottoms. He takes his time to dig into the pocket of his discarded pants, retrieving his wallet and you wait as patiently as you can muster as the anticipation grows.

“I think that dirty fuck deserves an Aston Martin at the very least, don’tcha think?” He smiles knowingly but it doesn’t reach his eyes and places his sleek black card on the bed. You hear him mutter the word pathetic as you reach for the card but when you peek up at him, you can see the way he takes pleasure in rewarding you when you so successfully display the thrill you feel in earning it. 

Your body aches but you prop yourself up on your elbows, grinning with tear-streaked cheeks, “Thank you, Daddy.” 

Joel leans down over you once more, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss and tangling his hand in your hair to make you unable to pull back. He knows how to show you who is in charge but he sets it in stone when he only draws back an inch after breaking the kiss again. 

“Remember, baby,” he murmurs, voice raspy with sex, “You only get what you deserve and you’ve been very deservin’ today.”

“Can I shower with you?” You smile sweetly. It seems like the right time to ask for a bit of intimacy. 

Joel huffs a laugh and shakes his head, “No. Lie in it.”

He disappears after that. Your smile does too.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[steddiealltheway]

Eddie’s eyes are brown.

At least, that’s what Steve would’ve said before staring into his eyes for…ten seconds? Thirty seconds? Five minutes? … he’s lost track of time.

But the time is certainly not wasted.

Steve’s not sure how he’s never noticed that brown eyes aren’t just brown. It’s a silly thought, and he knows that he should probably know this considering he also has brown eyes, but maybe he’s been too focused on his hair. And maybe he’s been a little too focused on Eddie’s lips…

He fights to glance down at them as Eddie stares back at him, his pupils blown wide, but every now and then when he leans a little to the side, the sunlight from the windows hits his eyes just right and his pupils contract, showing off all the color in his eyes. And Steve loves when this happens.

The brown turns into an almost amber color, deep brown highlighted by hints of warm red and orange. And at the bottom of his eyes, there’s small patches of gold standing out against the deep brown ring that circles the whole iris.

Steve thinks he could get lost in it all and stare for hours.

He leans in a little closer, trying to see more of that gold, and nearly groaning when Eddie shifts away from the light again, eyes becoming such a deep brown that Steve can easily see his reflection.

But he doesn’t want to see himself, he wants to see how that dark chocolate turns into that gold and red in the sunlight.

Then, something Steve didn’t fathom happens.

Eddie closes his eyes.

“Steve won!” Dustin shouts, as the other kids carry on loudly, and Steve is harshly startled back into reality.

A staring contest. That’s what this was supposed to be. A staring contest, not a Steve gets lost in his friend’s eyes for so long that he forgets to blink contest. Christ.

He glances sheepishly at Eddie and takes in all his features, the furrowed brow and the slight frown to his lips as Eddie tugs at a stand of hair.

As the kids file out of the room, moving onto whatever activity is going to keep them entertained next, Steve asks, “Are you that upset about losing?”

Eddie shakes his head and leans forward, staring into Steve’s eyes again. Steve fights not to look too deeply, afraid he’ll get lost in the depths forever if he gives himself the chance.

“I saw something I hadn’t seen before,” Eddie comments, looking back and forth between his two eyes.

“I did too,” Steve admits, allowing himself to stare a bit. He reaches out and pulls Eddie closer to him, getting both his eyes directly in the sunlight. “I see a whiskey my dad used to always keep on his desk, with hints of gold that reminds me of the jewelry my dad got for my mom, back when they still loved each other.”

His heart pounds at the memories, back to a time when things almost seemed normal. When he thought he would always be happy.

Steve shakes his head and glances away, unsure of how the colors he saw before could bring up the deep memories he spewed to Eddie. He changes the subject and asks, “What did you see in mine?”

He expects maybe an analysis of green and brown, or hazel as many girls tell him after staring at him for long enough to make him feel uncomfortable. He wonders why Eddie doesn’t make him feel that way.

A finger lifts Steve’s chin, turning his gaze back to Eddie whose stare sends chills down his spines. “I saw longing,” Eddie states and continues, “Was it for those things? Those memories?”

Steve finds himself shaking his head as his eyes glance down to Eddie’s lips which twitch as he swallows. “Was it longing?” Eddie asks, nervousness seeping into his tone.

Steve glances back at his eyes and nods. It’s not like he’s unaware of his deeper feelings for Eddie, but he didn’t expect to fall so hard in just a few moments as he stared into his eyes. And he definitely didn’t expect to have those emotions read so clearly in his own eyes.

Eddie’s hand slowly moves to cup Steve’s face as he says, “Steve, read my own eyes for a moment. Please see the-”

“Can you guys give us a ride to the arcade?!” Dustin yells from the other room.

Steve sees Eddie’s eyes flash with annoyance which is much different from the loving expression from before.

Loving.

Steve takes a deep breath and steps back as he hears multiple footsteps hurriedly making their way back to the kitchen.

“Did you hear us?” Mike asks, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, “Get to the car.”

He lingers back with Eddie as he watches all the kids run to his car, and when Steve gets to the door with Eddie behind him, he yells, “Give me a minute, I need to grab my wallet!”

He closes the door quickly and rushes into Eddie’s space, cupping his face, and asking, “Am I reading this wrong?”

“Not at all,” Eddie says, hope and deep longing shining in his eyes.

“Good,” Steve says, leaning forward and meeting Eddie in the middle as they hurriedly kiss, pouring in all the longing they’ve both experienced for months now but were too oblivious to see before.

(Robin laughs for minutes on end when she hears that a staring contest is what got them together when they’ve been having multiple for months without the label. Steve just rolls his eyes, but as soon as Eddie asks, “Want to have another staring contest?” He can’t resist.)

[kimhargreeves]

A Flashy Act-Buggy x Reader (One Piece Live Action)

Summary: You and Luffy find yourself with new members for your small pirate crew, quickly after stealing the map to the grand line, you're all kidnapped by a crew of pirates.

(Based on the One Piece Live Action!! since no one has written about Buggy which has surprised me. Enjoy this one shot Buggy fans!! You guys can decide if you want part 2 to include smut or not😩 next part will be written depending on how well people like this🤡)

"You know I'm gonna be king of the pirates. It's the first time I've had a ship like this." Luffy excitedly told the ginger haired girl.

"I know you've told me that many times already. Can you please be silent for once?" She asked getting annoyed by Luffy's constant talking.

"You be quiet. The kid's just excited." The green man known as Zoro told Nami.

Nami was trying to open the lock which was protecting the map inside.

Both of them unexpectedly helped us, when Luffy and I broke inside to find the map to the grand line, with a bit of help from Koby who had been kidnapped by Alvida. Thankfully Luffy saved him, the young boy said he wanted to join the Marines.

Luffy and I had entered and quickly met Nami and Zoro. Zoro was tied up with Nami dressed as a Marine trying to also have the map Luffy and I were after.

I have been by Luffy's side since many years now. Since he was a small boy, I am only just a couple of years older but I was the second person who raised him. The first being my older brother,l Shanks.

Just earlier the four of us were fighting a couple of Marine soldiers with Axe Hand Morgan trying to stop us, and almost did. If it weren't for Zoro and Luffy's help then we might've already been executed.

"He's just being enthusiastic about all of this. There's no need to be so mean." I said glaring at Nami and she glared back as well.

I decided to not say anything else to her so I walked over to where Luffy was holding onto his straw hat.

He had a smile on his face when he turned to look back at me. "Can you believe this, (Y/N). We finally have have a crew. I can only imagine the look on his face if he were to see me."

"I know he'll be proud. You're slowly becoming a true pirate." I nudge his shoulder and saw him smiling as he stared at the dark skies.

"I think we all make a pretty good team."

"Why do you even protect that hat so much. It looks like to fished it out of the trash."

"One man's trash is another man's treasure." Luffy replied to Nami when she spotted him holding onto the hat.

We all looked back and saw Nami has successfully managed to open the lock. "You did it!" Nami picked the map and unrolled it. With the four of us standing close looking down at it.

Luffy didn't get it or understood where the Grand Line is, so Nami began drawing it for him so he could understand it better. Rogers treasure is hidden somewhere in there.

A loud sort of bomb was heard with the sky now turning red. We all ran out of the ship and saw something explode in the sky. Zoro was the first to fall to the floor and Nami began to cough before she collapsed.

Oh shit. I tried to cover my mouth and nose but to was too late and I also fell to the floor and collapsed.

"Shhh (Y/N)."

I jumped up a bit and opened my eyes to see Luffy a bit too close to me. I rubbed my eyes and tried to stand up but saw that the four of us were inside of a wooden box.

"What..how did we get here?"

"It wasn't the Marines work. Before we all collapsed, I saw a ship heading towards us." Luffy said with Zoro quickly replying to him.

"It'll be easy then. Marines have training. Pirates don't."

We all were quickly met with circus music when the top of the box was removed along with the rest of the box. What the hell?

Zoro, Nami and I looked at each other weirdly when we looked at our surroundings. We were inside of a huge circus tent.

Red and white colored stripes with lights decorating the place, weird looking people and a crowd that were seated but we're tied by their ankles.

The crowd continued to clap with Luffy doing the same but Nami and I stopped him.

"No no no. Stop clapping! It's all wrong"

The four of us looked over at where the voice was coming from and we all looked to our left, and saw a tall man come through dressed entirely as a clown.

Long coat, bright blue long hair with exaggerated makeup and a red clown nose.

"The spotlight was late, it missed my entrance. And where oh where is the lion?" He said standing close to a man with white bear ears?

"Heyy. I know you." Luffy said which made me look back at him wishing he hadn't spoken.The man with blue hair turned to look at us. Wait..Luffy is right, we've seen him before.

"I saw your Wanted poster at Shell's town. You're the clown guy..umm..uhh. Binky, right?" He asked.

I nudged Luffy's shoulder. "Shut up, Luffy. That's Buggy." I muttered seeing that the clown kept his eyes on us.

"Buggy." The pirate corrected and grinned. "Buggy the Clown. Buggy, the Flashy Fool. Buggy, the Genius Jester." He said when no one spoke, seems like no one here knows about him.

"That one beside you seems to be the only one who's heard about me." I felt nervous when his blue eyes landed on me and he smiled.

I had only heard of him, and saw him on the Wanted poster. But I swear I must've at least since him once before…

He's creepy..but weirdly find him attractive. Maybe it's just my brain distracting myself from danger, who knows.

Luffy seemed impressed, "Wow. You have a lot of names."

I nodded my head and looked at Luffy, "He does. Everyone in the East Blue knows who he is."

"What did you just say?" His expression changed when I suddenly said that. Which made me confused.

"That everyone knows who you are?"

"Nose?!" I was paralyzed when Buggy came over and was now holding onto my face.

"Are you making fun of my nose?" He said a bit too close to me.

"I swear I wasn't! But..now that you mention it, is that thing real?" I asked genuinely wanting to know.

Buggy tilted his head as he stared at me, "You're kinda cute." He hummed and grinned

I saw Luffy's hand slowly started to try and tough the clowns nose until he smacked his hand away. The clown grinned looking down at me and stepped back letting go of me.

"You think you're so clever… What's real is I've been scheming for months to steal that map from old Axe Hand Moron. Only to find out that I was upstaged by four little nobodies, who stole it from right under my no-…No!! It's in my head now."

"Hey! I'm not a nobody. I'm Monkey D. Luffy. And I will be king of the pirates." My best friend said making Buggy laugh.

"Oh! Now that's funny. My bounty poster graces the marquee of every Marine Outpost for miles. And my menagerie of outcasts and freaks is the most dreaded pirate crew the East blue has ever known. I am destined to find One Piece. And when I do. I will be King."

"No, you won't. 'Cause I'm gonna find it first." Luffy told him.

Zoro stepped between us and looked at the other clowns behind Buggy. "I am Roronoa Zoro. Drop your weapons now and I may let you live."

This made Buggy laugh while looking at the green haired stoic man.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a celebrity in our midst. Too bad I hate sharing the spotlight. Now, maybe we should skip right to the finale."

Buffy retrieve a set of blades and smiled at us.

"My freaks put quite a bit of a rehearsal time into this little abduction. And if I can reward them with that map.. I suppose I'll have to offer them a pound of flesh instead."

Nami stepped between Luffy and I now, now looking at Buggy. "Wait. What if I have something else to offer you? Something more valuable than the map? What if I give you a new freak for your crew?"

"A rare talent. The most spectacular act in all the East Blue. Besides you, of course."

Nami glanced back at me and I glared back. Nami has grabbed Luffy's straw hat and tossed it up, just when Luffy showed his devil fruit powers, Nami left running.

"That little bitch." I whispered glaring at where she left.

It wasn't long at all when they brought her back and she revealed that Buggy's crew had destroyed the entire town.

He shrugged his shoulders as he stared at her. "Not everything. I let 'em keep their hands."

The sign for "clap" was lifted again, making the poor towns people begin to clap.

All the lights were suddenly focused on Buggy again. "I know one of you has my map, and I'm going to get it back." He said in a serious voice now.

"What was it you said, Rubber boy? That ir was in a safe place. Don't look so surprised. I got eyes and ears everywhere."

"I know where it is." I spoke up making all eyes turn to look at me.

I began to laugh as I showed the clowns and Buffy my middle finger. "You can all suck it or shove it up your asses.

Buffy clapped and at the people surrounding him. "Okay! Let's make our guests uncomfortable in the green room." A few clowns came to grab Nami and Zoro.

While another pair came to grab Luffy, Buggy stood behind me grabbed my neck and grinned looking at Luffy and looking back down at me.

"And I am gonna have a chat with our new pals.."

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 4)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3610

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Notes: Don't judge this part feels kinda meh.

Also in honor of being in Seattle tn and seeing the kraken play 😋

_________________________________________

Un-fucking-likely, indeed, your mind unhelpfully supplies on Monday night when Rhys barges into the study room looking like sex on legs.

His dark hair is damp from the shower he had to hastily take after practice. It’s disheveled as if he’s been running his fingers through it on his brisk walk from the arena to the library. There’s a soft pink to his tan cheeks that makes him look even more fuckable than usual, and you find yourself entranced as you trace the lines of his face.

The cut on Rhys’ lip has scabbed over nicely—you can’t help but notice—and the bruise setting in on his cheek is a mottled Picasso of green and yellow. The sight would make you grimace, but the wound only makes his violet eyes pop. The color draws you in, hypnotizes you as he stares back, until his bag slips off his shoulder and hits the ground with a loud thud that startles you both from your ogling.

You rip your gaze away from his, checking the time on your phone.

He's late. By twenty-two minutes.

“There’s no way.” You say when you manage to find your words. This cannot be happening. You don’t know if you’re struck more by the fact that he’s your tutor or because he looks utterly delectable in that tight black t-shirt that strains against every muscle packed onto his shoulders, arms, and chest. It’s almost as attractive as the gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips and the sliver of skin that calls to you like a siren. You carefully steer clear of that area and swallow harshly. “You’re my tutor?”

Rhysand’s eyes glitter when he tilts his chin to look at you. Normally, a man staring down at you like this doesn’t feel quite as heady as this, but the way that he’s looking at you makes your body tingle, and those tingles quickly converge between your thighs when he drags his fingers through his hair again and his shirt lifts, widening the peekaboo of skin you were eyeing only moments ago, revealing more of the cutting muscle of his hips.

You clutch your pen tightly in your fist because he looks like the king of Velaris University like this, all tall and handsome and knowing.

When he smirks, you consider shoving all your books and notes to the floor and spread yourself across the table, offering yourself up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Rhysand collapses into the chair across from you. It evens the playing field but not by much. He still towers over you, even when he begins leaning so casually in the chair like it isn’t the most uncomfortable piece of plastic you’ve has the displeasure of sitting on. His lap looks like a much more comfortable place to sit, you think, and immediately reprimand yourself for the thought. You mentally scold yourself, removing your gaze from him completely as you try to focus on keeping your mind from wandering to no-no land.

He looks exhausted, like he’s run himself into the ground during practice. Rhys releases a hearty sigh, rubs his eyes, and winces when the bruises protest under the pressure of his fists.

“You know, I pride myself in my knowledge of psychology, but I can’t tell if your shock is from the fact that I’m a very attractive man or if it’s because you think I’m a jock and can’t hack being smart, too,” he says, as his gaze trails you slowly, stopping where the table hides your thighs that are clenched tightly together from his slow perusal.

He’s looking at you like he also wants you laid out before him, and when he meets your gaze again, those violet eyes are hot, playful. Paired with the wink, he seems very pleased with himself. “I can assure you, it’s both.”

Your cheeks flush. He is hot, even more so with those bruises painting his skin and the tight-fitting clothing that leaves little to the imagination. You ache to reach across the table and dust your fingers across his wounds, press an ice pack to them and nurse him back to health. All while straddling his lap.

Woah, girl. Keep it the fuck together. You’re not that desperate.

“Wow,” you scoff, and it gives you the chance to clear your tight throat when Rhys leans over to pluck a few books from his bag. They thunk against the table, filling the room with something other than your erratic heartbeat. He glances at you as he begins to flip through the pages. “For someone who’s twenty-two minutes late to their tutoring session, you sure are cocky.”

Rhysand winces, shooting you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You’re stunned silent. There are no excuses. It’s a blunt, honest apology and a promise this isn’t going to be a reoccurring thing. He cares about his commitments as much as he cares about his sport, and it surprises you so much that you’re unsure of how to answer.

You don’t need to anyway, because Rhys continues swiftly, firing off questions in a way to catch up on what he’s missed. “What are you learning right now? What are you struggling with the most? We’ll start there and work our way back to the stuff you feel more confident in, so we don’t waste any more time.”

“We’re learning about behaviorism right now,” you note, looking down at the page your textbook is open to. You don’t catch the heated look Rhys pins you with, and there’s a fleeting thought that crosses his mind at your mention of behaviorism, an explicit one, because he can think of many hands-on approaches of how he’d like to teach you about conditioning and reinforcement, positive and negative reinforcement.

He hums noncommittally, flipping through his notes.

You tap the back of your pen against your textbook. “I have a quiz on Friday afternoon and a test two weeks after.” You sigh, returning to the same paragraph you’ve read three times tonight. You tried highlighting what was important according to the hand-out your professor gave you, but the entire paragraph is a block of yellow. “I can’t seem to keep it all straight.”

“Well, that’s because you highlighted the whole book,” Rhys’ eyes widen in disbelief as he cranes his head to look at your psychology textbook. “Seriously, did anyone teach you how to take notes?”

“I thought you were supposed to help me,” you huff, tossing your pen into the spine of your book and crossing your arms over your chest. You pin him with your most unimpressed look that transforms into a harsh glare when you see his gaze flick up from your chest.

Rhysand doesn’t have it in him to look ashamed. He’s fucking exhausted, and his two-a-days are catching up to him quickly. But he has his own psych paper to write by Wednesday night, right before they head out the following afternoon for a game against the Stags.

“Here,” Rhys says, and flips his book around so it’s facing you. He slides it across the table, shoving all your markers and poorly made flashcards with it. With a scowl, you lift the book and drape it over your own, drinking in the marks he’s made.

The lines are drawn neatly, not too many words highlighted, especially not paragraphs like you’d done in your own book. Your eye easily follows the words, picking up the important words covered by a bright blue.

“Holy shit,” you’d whistle if you could. “Color me impressed.”

Rhysand laughs, and your stomach flips. “See? Pretty and smart.”

The man wasn’t wrong.

You quirk a brow, resisting the urge to pull out your phone and snap a few photos of the excellently organized notes. And maybe a few of the boy who’d taken them himself. That preening smile gracing his lips and glittering eyes is something you want to commit to memory, but if you had the picture of it, late nights might not be so lonely.

“Oh, it’s pretty, now, is it? Describing yourself as hot was too…” You trail off, mulling your words in amusement. Rhysand’s smirk cracks wider, showing off his pearly white teeth, perfectly straight, and all the words you were trying to fumble for melt into a puddle of want.

“Spot on?” Rhys offers, waggling his brows. You carefully tuck your lip between your teeth, smothering a smile of your own. You shouldn’t be amused by him at all, especially since he all but demanded you weren’t to flirt with any of his players.

Rolling your eyes takes some force, but you manage. “Try pretentious.”

“Pretentious or not, it’s true.”

“Alright, Mr. Self-centered,” you roll your eyes.

Rhys cuts you off, “Actually, I’m just a regular center. And captain.”

 You blink at him, the joke almost falling as flat as your empty practice test taunting you on the table. Rhys cracks a wry grin when you shake your head. “Can we get to the important stuff now?”

“Right,” he nods firmly. “Behaviorism. Where should we start?”

You blush heavily. “The beginning, please.”

Rhys’ eyes widen and you groan in acknowledgement. You’re in desperate need of help. You weren’t kidding.

“No problem,” Rhys says, slipping his phone from his pocket. He types quickly, and you only wonder what he’s doing for a moment because he says aloud, “We’re going to need some coffees, it’s going to be a long night. What’s your order?”

Hours later, when you break for the night, you’re in much better spirits.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Rhys curses frantically. His violet eyes don’t meet your confusion, instead he’s looking around as if the small bushes you’re walking beside are big enough to hide a 6’3” hockey player with both his bookbag and his gear bag.

“What? What’s wrong?” His suddenly frenzied energy is rubbing off on you. You search your surroundings, your heartbeat drumming in your chest. It is night out, but you’re not seeing anything except the occasional student making their way across campus or the headlights of a car passing by. You have no idea why Rhysand is freaking out.

He turns to you so abruptly you stop in your tracks.

“Hide me,” he pleads, and you pull a face of confusion.

“What?”

“Hide me, please.” You catch the way his eyes flicker toward the path back to your dorm and you can’t help but follow his line of sight, ignoring his hiss of disappointment when you do.

There’s a girl walking your way, but she’s entranced in her phone. Her dark hair is braided long over her shoulder. It stands stark against her snow-white skin that seems to reflect the moon beaming down onto campus tonight. Her full lips are painted stark red, and the color does nothing to improve her color.

As if she can feel your gaze on her, she looks up. And when she notices Rhys, he goes still beneath her stare.

“Rhys?” She asks in surprise. He doesn’t answer, but she confirms it herself, a huge smile forming on those lips. It looks scary, evil, almost.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and you don’t have the chance to question him before she’s striding towards the both of you like a viper personified. The look in her eyes is sultry, lethal, and the smirk on her red-painted lips has the hair at the nape of your neck standing on end.

“I thought that was you,” she purrs. You frown, and then it deepens when Rhys slides his arm across your shoulders, tugging you tightly into his side.

The girl’s gaze drags to you and the way that she’s looking you in up and down doesn’t make you want to cringe and fold yourself into Rhys’ arms like a shy girl. No, it makes your spine straighten, and you lean further into Rhys’ side, even going so far as to wrap your arm around his waist.

You think you hear him release a breath or relief.

“Amarantha,” Rhys greets, and there’s no warmth in his tone. There’s no anything in his tone, her name is spoken with the inflection of a brick.

You bite your cheeks to hide your smile.

“Where have you been?” Amarantha asks, stepping closer. Rhys’ body coils beneath your touch, and you can tell he’s fighting every urge not to step away from her, even though you think he maybe should. “I haven’t seen you around tri-delta much lately.”

Ah, a sorority girl, you think. That checks out.

Of course, a hockey player would have tried his chances with a sorority girl. You’re sure she’s not the only one either, and the thought of the amount of women Rhys has slept with has a knot forming in your stomach. He’s an athlete for fuck’s sake, and athlete’s always score.

“That’s because I’m off the market, Amarantha,” he says, and you think there’s more to that story that you want to know. If this whole tutoring thing works out, maybe you can hassle Rhys into telling you later. “This is my girlfriend, (Y/N).”

You almost don’t understand that he’s talking about you until he tucks you closer. You stumble and plant your hand against his chest for balance, glaring up at him. It’s exactly what Rhys wants.

Your mouth all but drops in shock. You open your mouth to protest, but Amarantha cuts off any complaints sitting on the tip of your tongue. “Your girlfriend?”

Her tone is pure acid. She almost spits the word, like you’re trash beneath her feet. Your mouth snaps shut with an audible click, and you tear your glare off your “boyfriend,” shooting her the most tooth-rotting, sweet smile you can conjure. “Hi. Amara, was it?”

Her teeth grind and the sharp look she offers would melt you into the pavement if you weren’t immune to bitchy girls who think they deserve what they don’t. Especially when that thing is the gorgeous hockey player at your side.

“Amarantha.”

“Right,” your giggle is fake. “Oops.”

Rhys’ body shakes with laughter and you can’t help but to preen a little. It feels good and his body is warm. The lightning zipping under your skin and the look on his ex-girlfriend’s face lights you up.

“Well, I was hoping maybe we could talk sometime, about what happened with us?” Amarantha finally says, turning her gaze to Rhys. Her face transforms from hatred to innocent in the time it takes you to blink, like Rhys might just feel bad enough for her to give her what she wants.

Rhys hums thoughtfully, like he might actually agree to finding the time to meet and speak with her. Amarantha’s eyes sparkle. She must be thinking the same thing you’re thinking. You don’t like the thought of them alone together, of all the things they already have done together, but Rhys isn’t you boyfriend. No, he’s hardly your friend at all. Actually, he’s your best friend’s cousin, and your mind should not be wandering towards Rhys’ actions in the bedroom, let alone be acting like this with him.

“I’ll think about it, Amarantha,” he finally decides, and you don’t think you like that answer at all, but you shove your thoughts deep, deeply inside of you.

Amarantha steps closer, bats her eyelashes up at him. “I could send you some things for you to think about,” she says sultrily. You scrunch your nose up in distaste. Forward, much?

Rhys gives her that some noncommittal hum he gave you earlier in the night. “We’ve got to get going now,” he answers, tugging you around his clingy ex. “Lots of studying to do.” He lets the innuendo hang in the air. “See you around.”

He doesn’t wait for her to respond, dragging you in the direction of your dorm.

You think you wait an appropriate amount of time before you’re shoving his arm off your shoulder. “What the hell was that?”

Rhys groans and runs his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t know what that was, not really. All he knows is that he’d do whatever it takes to get Amarantha off his case and scrubbed from his memory, and he used you to do it tonight.

He feels like shit for doing that to you, especially when he barely even knows you.

Mor would have a fucking aneurism if she’d seen that.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, staring down at the sidewalk. “I panicked.”

“I’ll fucking say,” you scoff, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. It’s a balmy night out, but without the heat of Rhys’ body beside yours, a chill sweeps over you.

“That won’t be the last of her,” he sighs long and forlorn. It almost makes you feel bad for him, if the next words out of his mouth didn’t make your entire world flip. “I might need you to pretend to be my girlfriend again.”

You’re pretty sure your jaw hits the ground so hard it cracks the concrete beneath your feet. You halt so abruptly, Rhys doesn’t notice for a few steps, too lost in the idea he just blurted out and how perfect it might be. He could rid himself of Amarantha for good.

“What? No way!” You protest, and you’d really like to stomp your foot like a petulant child, but it seems your soles have melted into the sidewalk.

Rhys frowns, and you find you don’t like that look on his face. “Why not?”

What does he mean why not? There are a trillion reasons why this is a bad idea, but you blurt the one that bubbles to the surface first. “I can’t have your team, what makes you think you can have me?”

Rhys’ entire demeanor changes. He straightens his shoulders and stands taller, every muscle going taut with your words.

He raises a single brow. “How many of my teammates do you have your eye on?” He asks, prickling with jealousy. He shouldn’t be, except for the fact that he quite literally ran into you first, and if he can’t have you, then neither can his teammates.

Your cheeks flare with embarrassment. “I—what?” You stutter.

“How many of my teammates do you have your eye on? Or do you need me to rephrase.” Long gone is the cheeky tutor from the library. Now, he’s transformed into some sort of angered jock, like you just told him he’d be on the bench for the rest of the hockey season.

And it hits you, his words. Why would he care if you had your eye on one player or more? He doesn’t own you; he doesn’t even know you, and he’s making assumptions that frankly, are far from fucking true.

“I don’t have my eye on any of them, asshole,” you spit back your lie because it tastes like shit on your tongue. You have your eye on one. Or should you say had your eye on one. Knowing what you know now, you would happily go back in time and run into someone else.

It would never end well, you and him. And it’s the ultimate best friend betrayal.

You glare at Rhys, and he glares at you. You’re sure he’s used to people taking orders from him, but you’re not one of his teammates, and you’re too stubborn to back down.

When it’s clear that you’re not going to entertain his lewd questioning, he rips his gaze away. “C’mon. I have shit to do tonight and it’s getting late.”

“I can walk myself,” you grumble, shoving past him.

You hear his strides before he appears in the corner of your vision, catching up easily with you. Neither of you speak as you continue the last few blocks to your dorm. When you see the tall, looming building, you almost sigh in relief.

Until, of course, Rhys opens his mouth and spouts of another one of his stupid ideas.

“What if,” he starts, and you’re already rolling your eyes. “I help you with psychology, and you pretend to be my girlfriend, so Amarantha gets off my back.”

“Um, no.” You protest, because what the actual fuck is happening right now? “That’s what you agreed to before we ran into Amarantha.”

He shrugs, and it takes all your remaining willpower not to sprint the last block to your dorm. “My terms have changed.”

You scoff in utter disbelief. The nerve of this man. “Fine.” You haul ass to your dorm, more than done with tonight.

“Fine?” Rhys echoes. He sounds shocked. Which he should, because you know he’s taken your reply the wrong way. “You’ll do it?”

“No,” you spin on your heel and almost run face-first into Rhys’ chest. He catches you around your waist, steadying you. You didn’t hear him trailing you, and you don’t know how someone so large can move so silently. You clear your throat, ripping your focus from the tingles on your arms that seem to be coming from his touch, trying to reignite the flare of annoyance that he just smothered. “Not fine as in ‘I’ll do it.’ ‘Fine,’ as in, ‘I’ll find another tutor.’”

“What do you want? Please,” he begs, and he sounds good doing it. His violet eyes are soft, pleading, strands of his black hair falling across his brow. You want to reach up and brush them back for him.

“I want you to teach me how to pass psych,” you answer simply. “Without an ultimatum.”

Rhys’ shoulders fall, but one of you must relent, and it’s not going to be you. Over your dead body. “Fine.”

“Fine as in yes, or?”

He shoots you an unimpressed look. Too soon. You wince and smile apologetically.

“Fine, I’ll help you.”

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @judig92 @se7enteen--black-blog @thecraziestcrayon @cherry-cin @itsinherited @justafictionalnerd @bookishbroadwaybish @405rry

[cosmicsully]

OBSESSED WITH YOU

aged up!Neteyamx aged up!human(f)!reader

Summary: In which…. Neteyam crosses paths with a human, but what is that sudden obsession with her, where did that need to protect her come from?

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: fluff, Y/N’s personal space is quite literally violated by Neteyam, Y/N is the first Human Neteyam has ever seen, Neteyam barely speaks/understands English, kissing, slight make out, lowkey unrealistic storyline lmao

My Masterlist <3.

What are you called? = fyape syaw fko ngar Stay calm = mawey beautiful: (of people) = sevin take it off = kämunge tsal I want to see = Oe new ne kame hurry up = win säpi nefä so soft = nìftxan 'ango

I hope you enjoy! If you do, feel free to reblog, I might consider writing more parts to this :) <3

I can still remember how it happened. The day that I met Neteyam still lingers in my mind, the young Na´vi boy consuming my attention at all times.

About a week ago, I can still feel the soft breeze of air flushing against my legs, I remember smelling the green plants that had just been drowned in the heavy rain the previous night. The loving light of the warm sun embraces my figure as I walk across a muddy path, trying not to step on any kind of animal. I was outside although I was not allowed to leave the lab. Secretly slipping out of the back door, the mask that is pumping oxygen into my lungs well secured on my face, as I made it my new goal to explore Pandora further.

It is a memory I cherish. The adrenaline that runs through my veins as I took one step after the other, putting as much space as possible between me and the lab.

With the feeling of well-secured safety and no one having caught me fleeing from my home, I slowed my steps, taking in my beautiful surroundings. All kinds of exotic colorful plants surround my form, my eyes darting to one and then another, trying to see everything all at once. My ragged breathing slowed down as I sprinted across the mud, my feet now slightly covered in it.

I can’t help but feel joy consume me whole.

The beauty of Pandora yet again swallowed me, pulling me in. I let my feet work on their own, deciding on taking a small walk to find new interesting and unexplored corners. My fingertips glide against a pulsating bluish plant, as it vibrates against my hand in return, letting myself smile at the uncommon feeling.

This world is so alive.

It is beautiful, I hope its owners treat it well, with respect and cherish it just as I do. Although from the stories I have been told, Na’vi are very spiritual species who inhabit these forests. And now that I think of it, I have never truly seen a real Na’vi.

Dreamwalkers don’t count.

Not letting my mind linger on the thought of facing a real Na’vi, I continued my exploration, It felt like mere minutes, but because it was slowly becoming darker around me it must have been at least a few hours. The only sound that reaches my ears is my breathing from behind the thin glass that is covering my entire face, and the nature that I’m currently moving in. Deciding that I have seen enough for today and that Norm is most likely worrying about my well-being, I take a turn and walk to the path I have been walking all along and slowly but surely make my way back to the lab.

Just as I took a few steps, I heard a quiet huff and leaves moving behind a tree a few feet away from me.

Midway through me turning my head, a blue figure emerges from the bushes. There he stands. A tall male Na’vi. His stripes-covered skin glows underneath the small amount of light that is still falling on Pandora.

He is beautiful.

So beautiful the nature around me is no longer on my mind. All my focus and attention is now drawn to him as I see his fist tightening around a weapon that is firm in his right hand.

With quick movements, he is pointing an arrow at me.

“Wait- Wait- Wait-“ I start as his face wears an angry expression, his frown-covered face facing my direction. I can see his ears perk up at the words that left my mouth. The foreign language fills his head as he decides on killing or spearing me.

“fyape syaw fko ngar?” he hisses, flashing his fangs at me. His white teeth sparkle in the sun as he takes a big step closer to me. His sudden movement made me trip over, my backside making contact with the now slightly dried ground. Him now towering over me even more, his height is scary.

“I- I’m sorry I don’t understand you, please talk slower,” I say, trying to speak slowly, he probably doesn’t understand my words. He tilts his head in confusion, his eyes widening as he takes in my form. Here I am, halfway sitting up in the slightly muddy forest of Pandora. My eyes are fixated on the Na’vi that is towering above me.

“fyape. syaw. fko. ngar?” he repeats, now trying to talk as slow as I did. His pronunciation is now much clearer, his eyes squinting close as if he can see the wheels whirring behind my eyes. This situation throws me back multiple years, remembering the Na’vi lessons we were put through at the mere age of ten. He must have said something about me. Asking about my age? No that would not add up to the situation I’m currently in. Maybe he asked what my name is. That makes way more sense, him emerging from the forest, probably taking me in as a threat.

Slowly, I raise my hands on either side of my head a little, to show that I have no weapons on me, and don’t mean any harm to anyone. At my gesture his ears stand up, their previous position flattened against his head long gone. While doing so, his curiosity must have grown, he lowers his weapon, no meaning to harm me for now. The unknown Na’vi male lowers himself into a crouching position, as he fixates his bow on his back and secures the arrow back in its holder. With me still staying put on the ground, he starts to crawl over my much smaller form to take in my face.

His expression is still confused, but the curiosity must be getting a hold of him. He slowly makes his way above me, his face getting closer to mine, I can feel his warm breath hitting my cheek, his sparkly yellow eyes boring into my own. Pupils now grown bigger and bigger with each second that passes.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, my questioning tone must have shown him that I asked a question. He shakes his head in a way to tell me that he has no idea what I just said, but he doesn’t leave his current position, instead, he’s only inching closer to my body. His face slowly moved to the left side of my face, flattened nose touching my cheek and slowly moving down to my neck. His way of moving and actions remind me of an animal, I can feel him take a deep breath through his nose when it hits my pulse point. It’s like he’s taking in my scent, trying to burn it into his brain to never lose the smell of me.

His actions makes a shudder run down my spine, a shaky breath leaving my mouth only now realizing that I have been holding my lungs oxygen-free for the past minute, them now aching and burning for more.

He breathes me in again, this time with eyes closed, my scent filling his nostrils. My breathing stays unsteady, his presence making my heart quicken in my chest, he seems to notice that, his eyes now fixated on my chest, watching it rise and fall again. When my eyes caught his never leaving my chest, a frown forms on my face, my mouth gaping at him and my arms moving to cover my chest. Slightly uncomfortable under his stare that is on one of my most intimate parts.

He quickly shakes his head and uses one of his three-fingered hands -that is at least twice as big as mine- to move them away, his now gained free access to my chest making him move his head closer, the side of his face making contact with me, his ear hovering above my heart. My heartbeat echoes in his head, its beating pumping hot blood through my veins. Although he does not seem to have the intention to hurt me in any way, my heart doesn’t slow its fast beats. His heavy head makes contact with my chest, I can feel him resting his head completely.

He stays put for a few seconds, the sound of soft breaths leaving his nose hit my ears. My heart still hammers in my chest, continuing to reveal my unsure feelings about the moment and this stranger who is quite literally breaking the definition of personal space. He stirrers up removing his ear from my chest, now much softer yellow eyes meeting mine.

“Mawey.” he whispers. His soothing voice makes it seem like a sweet gesture, the way he talks, the way his eyes move from me to my chest, no, to my heart, its like he wants to tell me to relax. The next thing that catches his attention is the oxygen mask that covers my slightly blushing face. With one of his fingers he taps against the glass, the tap rather harsh as it shoots through the glass and right to my ears echoing softly.

"Neteyam." he speaks up, the pronunciation lingering in my mind. As he speaks, he points the finger that just tapped my mask to his chest, gesturing to himself, it seems to be his way of introducing himself to me.

"Y/N." I say telling him my name. His ears perk up as my voice hits him.

"Y/N…" he tries to pronounce my name just like I did, but fails miserably. I can´t help myself but let a giggle slip past my lips at his terrible attempt at pronouncing my name, squinting my eyes closed in the process. He doesn´t exactly laugh at my reaction, but what seems to be a small smile makes its way across Neteyams face. I like the way my name sounds when he speaks.

"Sevin." he whispers pointing at me again. His hand glides downwards to my own and he takes a look at it, his eyes fixated on my little finger. He slowly but surely wraps two of his fingers around it, completely engulfing my pinky with his. His hand is huge compared to mine. If he wanted to, he could cover my entire hand with his and nothing of my hand would be visible.

"Sevin?" I ask, questioning his last words, why did I barely pay attention when we were told simple words that are commonly used by Na´vi?

"Beautiful?" he now repeats, his accent thick as he tries to translate his words.

"You mean me?" I ask a little unsure, it is not unknown in the lab that Na´vi and humans don´t usually interact with one another, let alone find any interest in each other. He points his finger against my chest again, still trying to get me to understand that he thinks I´m pretty.

I can´t help but blush at his actions, not quite used to being complimented by someone.

"You´re beautiful too" I answer, already aware of the fact that he probably doesn´t understand what I just told him. So I point my finger at his chest just like he did to me and say

"Sevin."

His eyes fall to my pointer finger that is currently resting against his chest, his hands now following his eyes, a blue hand yet again engulfing my own. I feel a certain warmth spread through my chest.

Am I supposed to feel like this?

Probably not.

No, definitely not.

Then why does his presence feel so good? Why do I feel this special security with him? When his warm eyes meet mine?

His attention is now back on my face, the way he is now directly in front of me, allows me to take a closer look at his facial features. His yellow, big, cat-like eyes are pulsating with warmth and softness, his slightly flattened nose wrinkling when he senses new smell. He seems to be studying me just as I do him.

"kämunge tsal" he whispers, now again tapping against my oxygen mask.

Although I could not exactly translate his spoken words in my head, it must have been something about my mask. I shake my head hastily, if his intentions are about me taking it off he can forget it.

"Oe new ne kame" he urges me on, his eyes filled with curiosity and desperate pleading.

"Off," he says quickly his demanding tone fitting to his accent, his hand already finding the bottom of the mask and lifting it off of my face. His sudden actions make me gasp and quickly breathe in, to catch another wave of oxygen.

The mask is now all the way off, Neteyam places it on one of his muscular tights, but his vibrant eyes are darting across every moving muscle on my face. He studies me carefully as if he is afraid of breaking me with a grip that might be too firm for my body.

His left-hand moves to the right side of my head, the warm palm of his softly meeting me. His palm swallows half of my skull, it’s like a puzzle fitting, his piece connecting with mine. A few seconds later I have a sort of ticklish feeling against my upper thigh, his strong tail curling twice around it. The movement makes me blush, I feel my cheeks and half of my neck warming. It’s like Neteyam is trying to be as close as possible, though I can not really tell why.

His face inches closer to mine, he’s so close again that I can feel his breath on my lips, his eyes dare to look at them for a quick moment but just as he meets them he averts his gaze again. I can’t help it but copy his movement, my eyes darting down to his lips.

I can feel the atmosphere between us get turned upside down within one quick glance at his lips, a sort of tension building up.

What I’m doing here is insane.

I should be home by now.

Just as I can feel him getting even closer, the need for oxygen is growing and growing, my lungs aching for relief. My eyes shoot down to his leg hastily grabbing the mask that my body so desperately seeks. The moment it hits my face I take a deep breath, my heart beating at a quickening speed. Neteyam groans in response his hand falling from my head, instead both of his hands land on either side of my waist. As I try to steady my breathing, he pulls my smaller form into his lap.

"win säpi nefä" he lowly whines, making my eyebrows raise in confusion at his whining. He waits a few seconds for my chest to raise at a normal speed again, his eyes boring through mine as if he is asking for permission, although I can not quite tell for what.

"Enough" he orders now quite needy ripping the mask off my face, but before I can respond in annoyance, warm lips are pressed against my very own. My eyes widen at his sudden actions, I can`t hold back the quiet unexpected sigh that sounds like a soft moan leaving my lips.

Neteyam responds eagerly, his tongue now parting my lips ready to claim my mouth, the taste of me lingering on his tastebuds, he pulls me closer by my hips, the close proximity making him groan. The kiss quickly becomes feverish and passionate as his desire for more keeps growing. His hand moves to the back of my head keeping me in place to continue his almost assault on my lips. His rough palms skim down my waist to hook around my hips, pulling me flush against his chest.

It is something I have never felt before, the adrenaline coursing through my veins making my head dizzy. Or maybe it was the lack of oxygen that was making me feel lightheaded.

I can´t help but try to pull away from him, his much stronger grip on me only tightening in response, in order to gain focus again I let my fingers tangle into his braids, softly tugging his lips away from mine. Neteyam growls in protest, chasing my lips with his but I lean back and reach down to put the mask that dangles down my body back on my face. As I keep filling my lungs with air, I look up through the thing glass with heavy-lidded eyes, my chest still heaving and my heart thrumming in my chest.

Neteyam pants softly, just as breathless as I am.

Behind Neteyam I can see his tail swaying with excitement from side to side, his own heavy eyes now focused on a part of my neck. He quickly connects his lips with my neck, softly coating it with open-mouth kisses. With his other hand, he gently tugs on my hair to expose my neck to his mouth. Not caring about the noises that could slip out of my mouth, I let a soft moan leave my lips at the feeling. That seems to urge him on further, his lips traveling from my neck, to my collarbone and lastly to my pulse point. It is the place he breathed me in earlier, he growls at the memory, lips quickly working at sucking on my delicate skin.

I close my eyes at the feeling of his soft but rough lips as they work against my sensitive skin, my mouth slightly agape at the pleasure that is shooting through every inch of my body.

"nìftxan 'ango" the Na´vi male moans against my neck, at the sound of a twig breaking somewhere in the distance, Neteyam quickly breaks away from my sensitive skin. His tail tightened around my thigh in a protective manner.

"Come" he hushes at me, now raising to his feet and full height, With one swift movement he claims my wrist in his hand sneaking around it in a soft grip. He pulls me up in no time as if I weigh nothing to him. I can feel myself hovering over the ground for a split second before he lets go of my wrist now fully placing me back on the ground I was laying on only minutes ago.

[sh1-n0bu]

𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 1: bondage/shibari with blade from hsr!

warnings: shibari/bondage obv, subspace, affirmation of consent, cockstepping, forced self praise, nipple stimulation, masochist blade, slight feminization, praise

notes: oh shit, here we go

being in a relationship with blade comes with many surprises and way too many heart attacks. no, really, the amount of times you almost had a heart attack because of this man is insane.

coming back home injured and on the brink of death. sudden reopening of his wounds and stitches because he was so used to pain. or the fact that he literally fell unconscious on your lap because he forgot to eat anything for the last who knows what long?

or even now, when he holds out a red rope, asking you to tie him up like a helpless prey.

it took a lot of tries and failures. wrapping the pretty red rope around the bare skin of your masochistic lover is quite hard when you have zero experience on full body bondage. if it were just hands and legs, you were a master at it. but not when it comes to shibari.

“color?” your voice comes out soft and gentle, tightening the last part of the red rope behind his back. all you got in response was a quiet shuddered breath.

“bladie, color?” fastening the end of the rope behind his back — not too tight, not too loose — your hand comes up to rest atop his head before slowly stroking his hair. that snapped him out of his current thoughts real fast as his hazy ruby eyes shift up to look at you.

“g-green… green” blade nods, gulping down what saliva was being collected in his mouth.

looking down at your handiwork, the stellaron hunter almost lets out a loud moan at the sight. red rope, one that is the same color of his eyes, fastened around his body so prettily. his chest, breasts you like to call whenever you squeeze them, looked bigger than usual. a part of the red rope going down and around his pecs, digging into his skin just enough to remind him of the current action you two were about to do. and his cock, standing angry red and proud.

he was hard. embarrassingly so.

you haven’t done anything but tie him up to his request and oh gods, he was already so embarrassingly hard.

if you were to see his arousal and the slight pre already on his tip, what would you do? would you scold him? call him mean and degrading names? would you leave him untouched and desperate for hours? would you slap his cock and make him cry and sob in a twisted sense of pleasure and pain?

a hand comes to rest on his chest, momentarily snapping him out of his thoughts. oh, what would you do? what would you do to him? your poor, pathetic, helpless lover.

“my sweet bladie. look at you, staying there all tied up like a little prey” he briefly hears your voice call out, hands starting to fondle and squeeze his pecks. unconsciously, he pushed his chest further into your hand, wanting more of your sweet touches. it felt like his entire body was on fire and only your hand could soothe him. or even make it worse.

“do you like it, dear? does my pretty boy like it when i fondle his tits like that?” he lets out an embarrassingly loud noise at your words. a pathetic sound that’s akin to a mewl that a cat in heat makes. without even noticing, his hips stutter in his position on the rug covered floor as well.

“such a cute and round breasts you have, my love. so full. they fit in my hand so prettily. do you think if i suck on your pretty nipples for long enough, you would start lactating?”

oh. oh no. just that mental image or the thought of having your mouth wrapped around his areola had him whining out loudly. rutting his hips on the material of the soft rug desperately as he tries to make your words a reality. oh, would you help him out if that actually does end up becoming real? would you suck and stimulate his nerves so often and too much to the point that he would actually start lactating just like a woman would? would you suck on his leaking milk?

such vile thoughts that made him squirm on his place on the floor with a long, drawn-out whine. who would have ever thought your stoic looking lover would be such a weak little thing.

not that you minded it. you loved it actually. all the more reasons to circle a thumb around his hardened bud, making him twitch and buck his hips, searching for the tiniest bits of friction to his poor leaking cock.

"ah right. how mean of me. i forgot about your little problem" you let out a soft coo, deciding to try out a new thing as well. no point in backing out now. your sweet boy was already a mess on the floor with just a few touches and caresses. might as well help him out and fulfill his fantasies.

"color?" you ask again, one of your feet lightly resting on his stomach, pressing lightly, just enough pressure to cause blade to gain his words again from wherever his pretty mushy brain is swimming in once he gets to this state.

understanding the implications of your words and what you were asking affirmation for, blade couldn't help but nod his head a little too eagerly. the dirty and vile side of him wanting what exactly it was you were offering. the dark and more twisted part of him just wanted you to do that already. to take what you wanted without asking, make him scream, jolt, sob from the suddenness of it all.

but of course, you would never do that. you were so caring of him. makes him wonder how he even was lucky enough to have you as his own lover.

"my love, i need to hear you use your words" your voice sounded a bit harsher than he remembered. did he made you mad? disappointed? sad? he didn't meant to! poor little blade was just too damn lost in his own little space. all thanks to the rope and the suffocating amount of trust he blindly puts in you.

"green... please? aeons, please just touch me" his response was sluggish. slow. slurred. drunken and lost in the hazy grips of pleasure and anticipation. that was all you needed.

with a comforting headpat, the feet that you had placed on his stomach slowly trailing down before coming to rest over his hard on. just a simple buck of his hips and he can get to feel you step down on his cock. the thought had blade already panting and drooling. but you haven’t even touched him yet. what a perverted boy, he was.

slowly but gently, you pressed down on his arousal before putting just enough pressure to cause him to let out gasps and loud whines. it felt good. you felt good. you were making him feel so good and blade? oh, he could never be happier nor could he ever thank you enough for it.

“t-thank you…! gunhhg thankyou thankyo—oounpp!!! gccck♡︎!” the man blabbers on drunkenly, his hips twitching as he tries to rut up into your feet further to make you just stomp on his pathetic cock. he would love that so much. the disgusting, masochist part of him would love that so fucking much.

“you’re my pretty boy, right? my sweet toy. my cute prey. my darling blade, right? you’re still my good bladie, right?” he could briefly hear you hum so sweetly. voice like a honey on his fried brain. in response, all blade could do was nod and nod eagerly like a pup. hands straining against the pretty red ropes that you tied around him.

“words, blade” the hand that was still playing and squeezing at him breast — god he completely forgot about your hand there — squeezes at his hardened nipple before pulling on it slightly. that was a warning for him to use his words. to repeat back what you said to him like a broken record. or else, you would probably deny touching him all-together and your sweet boy would hate that.

“guuh— i am! i am i am! ‘m your good boy. y-your sweet boy! ‘m still your cute bladie nyaah♥︎!” that last part slipped out unconsciously. he could barely even form any words now. just pathetically humping the rug and your feet that’s pressed down on his leaking cock, face pressed against the side of your thigh as his noises become more loud and debouched.

all he knew was to keep repeating the words you said. there was no need for him to think. why would he have the need to think when you were right there in front of him, helping him and being so cruel yet so sweet to him? blade didn’t needed to use his head when with you.

so, he just simply kept parroting your words through jumbled heap of mess. how he was your toy. your cute prey. your good boy. your love, blade. yours, yours, yours, yours—!

“uuunghh! mmpf-fuck! fuckfuckfuck! n-nnyaaghh♡︎♡︎!” twitching violently on his place on the floor, the immortal tries to break free from the ropes keeping his hands tied tightly to his sides. blade had always been a touchy guy, wanting to scratch your back, sides, hips, wherever his hands could reach. and yet he couldn’t. not this time and it’s all because of what he said and his own wishes.

so, he simply settles on mewling embarrassingly loud as his hips stutter in place, cock cumming untouched as he tries to hide his drooling face into the soft flesh of your thighs, soiling your feet with his own cum.

“g-gcckk.. m-more… unngh need you t-to fill me up” blade mumbles, voice muffled as he rubs his cock against your feet. he was already hard again and the skin on skin contact stung whenever he slowly humped your leg. oh but he loved it.

the red ropes matched his flushed cheeks and bleary eyes perfectly. so, who are you to stop now and deny your sweet boy?